Yes! Harry and Hermione are both healthy. And free of potions. Potions? Yes. That's one trope I didn't leave out. If you were paying attention in the last few parts (and not skimming as I usually do when I read), you will have read about Hermione's mother's (Bianca's) sister, Desdemona. Desdemona Chase. Mother of Cordelia Chase. Of Buffy fame (and who ended up being a witch). So, yeah, Hermione's got magic from both sides. Not that she confirms that. But she figures it's probably the case when her mom lives to the ripe old age of 117. Onward with Part whatever (4 I think)!

~~ this is a scene break ~~

The next day, Harry and Bianca found themselves walking through the magical section of Seattle, looking at all it held. As they were walking, Bianca noticed that Harry was wearing the same outfit he'd worn the day prior.

"Harry, now that you've grown so much in the healing chamber, I think you probably need some new clothes."

He blushed. "I guess I do, but it seems wasteful, spending money on clothes for me. Especially as I already spent so much between the travelers kit and the healing."

"I don't mean to pry, but didn't your parents leave money for your care? They would have wanted you to be healthy. And from what I can remember, the travelers kit had mostly things you've already needed?"

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I've used everything in the kit, though maybe I could have gotten some of it cheaper used or in the muggle world. I didn't really have that option before I left Britain, though. As for my parents, they were really, really well off. They did leave money for me, but I feel guilty spending it. Especially on frivolous things, like clothes."

"Well, how much have you spent? And how much did your parents plan for you spending? I think you could afford what most kids have, which is a basic wardrobe. And a few personal things for yourself, too." She sounded resolute and tried to hide her fury that his guardians had so eroded his self-worth.

She got him to realize that outside the healing and his schooling he hadn't spent much of anything, and his parents would want him to have a comfortable life. The healing had been expensive, but the amount from his Black trust vault had covered it with ease and he still had loads of galleons left over. He remembered what Dr. Singh, his mind healer, had talked with him about. How the Dursleys had conditioned him but it was up to him to break that conditioning.

Deciding that having fitting clothes would be nice (he certainly appreciated that he wasn't being looked at like he was a criminal, though Seattle seemed to have a much more open attitude toward what was proper than London did), he managed to buy a small wardrobe with Bianca's help.

Throughout the week, when Harry would finish a testing session, Bianca would reward him with a walk around the city. They visited a haunted tour on the no-maj side and Harry saw that it really was haunted by magical ghosts. One afternoon, they passed a quidditch store, and she saw his look of interest. She guided him into the store with the argument that none of his old equipment would fit now that he was so much taller than he had been. As they were finding the equipment he wanted for flying, he found out that American broom company – Storm – had a new top of the line broom that would compete with Firebolt - though its price wasn't the exorbitant price of the Firebolt. The Tornado was said to be excellent with speeds and turns. Their Hurricane was a good beater broom, the Derecho a good chaser broom. But the Tornado was built to be a seeker broom.

Harry thought about the Firebolt and that it was the last thing he has from Sirius, since he'd stupidly broken the mirror and melted the knife. Even when he got it back, he wasn't going to fly it. He'd probably keep it in his vault, actually, until he had a home of his own.

Making the decision - in for a penny, in for a pound - his vault took another beating with the purchase of a Tornado.

The penultimate day of testing, Harry was in a fine mood. He felt as though he had done very well on those tests, and he was now in the mood to treat himself. Bianca encouraged it. There was something about this young man that just made her heart hurt every time he realized that he could have nice things. Seattle was cutting edge for technology and magic. As they passed a tech store, Harry noticed the CD player that one of his healers had in the TCC with them. Harry had marveled at it and gotten to know quite a bit of music through his year of confinement. He decided he wanted to be able to listen to music, so bought portable CD player that was enchanted to hold up in highly magical areas and a charmed container that would hold up to 1000 CD's. When he got his mum's tapes converted to CD, he'd be able to listen wherever he wanted; that, alone, justified this purchase in his mind.

Never mind that he had found he really liked music, especially the music that was popular in Seattle.

He also bought a personal espresso machine and a stasis bag of espresso beans and a stasis milk container for Hermione for her birthday, after getting Bianca's permission to do so. "She's told me how much she loves this stuff, and we can't get it at school. We can get coffee now we're upper years, but it's not the same, right?"

Bianca smiled at how well this young man knew her daughter. "Right!"

They spent the rest of their last night in Seattle in music stores, and Harry purchased a number of CD's. He watched his knuts and his pounds, but his trust vault still had a considerable amount to get him through his last two years. That didn't count the main Potter vault or the Black vault.

Bianca decided to get a CD player for Hermione for a birthday present. Harry asked what Hermione liked besides Beethoven, Elton John, and the Beatles (ones he's heard her say she likes). He won't tell about her own birthday gift, but if he has CD's she likes, he'll play when she's with him, like on the train. Bianca answered, touched at how much Harry knew about her little girl – how much he thought about her - and Bianca believed that a real betrothal between the two might not be too bad in the end.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

The order meeting was small – just a few of the fervent were in the meeting room in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Why aren't we meeting at headquarters?" Remus asked. He'd been out of town trying to get information from some wolves.

"Locked up tighter n'a ugly virgin's quim, inn'it?" Moody grinned at the gasps of outrage from the more prudish among the group. He was proud to see Tonks snicker. "Seems the boy figured out he owned it before he went on his jaunt. Dung paid the price there, he did. He can't afford to have Mungos replace his digits, so I guess he's going to be a few fingers lighter."

"That would be why my potions texts disappeared, then. Stupid brat," Severus griped. None in the gathering protested that they were actually Harry's books.

"Water under the bridge. I have grave news," Albus continued in a dire voice.

"Spit it out, then." Moody countered, unwilling to support his old friend's penchant for drama.

"The Dursley house burned to the ground last night." There were gasps around the table. Here was proof, if they needed it, that the Potter lad was still a primary target of Voldemort.

Tonks' hair turned white. "Death eaters?"

Albus nodded grimly. "Certainly their tactics. Arabella informed me of the fire through the floo last evening. It resisted all muggle methods of extinguishing."

"Were the muggles burned alive, then?" Remus asked.

"On summer hols like usual, they were," the elderly squib contributed. Arabella Figg rarely made the order meetings, but this one Dumbledore deemed she needed to attend. "Almost always take themselves off end o'July. Celebratin' and such."

"Pampered Potter has to celebrate his birthday, of course," Snape groused.

"Nah, they always left the lad with me, they did. And never even paid me for his lodging or food."

"Arabella," Minerva interrupted, "he was just a child. And Albus did provide you with a stipend to watch out for him, did he not?"

"Tis barely enough to feed me n' me cats. Not enough for a growin' lad. Course, he was always a fractious eater. Picky about what he'd eat. Beggars can't be choosers, I say," the older woman concluded with a firm nod.

"This is neither here nor there. The Dursleys house is gone. All signs indicate that Mr. Potter has taken his position as head of house, and he cruelly abandoned the Dursleys before the wards had fully charged. They live only by luck. The new head of house Potter has much to answer for," Albus's voice was grim and others in the room nodded in accord.

"Does this mean he's not going to be paying me stipend? And 'ow am I supposed to get on without gettin' me pay, Dumbledore? You promised."

"Arabella, this is the least of our worries," Albus began.

"Says you from your fine castle…" the older woman rejoined.

The order didn't accomplish anything that day.

~~ this is a scene change, and a time turner, too ~~

While Harry was being treated in the time compression chamber, and Bianca was being treated in an up-scale California spa, Jason Granger had taken Hermione back to the UK. Though they wanted to head home immediately, there had been a message from Winky for them at Gringotts Minneapolis. The home wasn't safe. Call for Winky when they get back.

Greeted by Winky outside the airport, the pair were informed that the Headmaster had tried several times to find Hermione at their home and had cast several spells on the property. He was obviously looking for Harry. Hermione was bound and determined not to help him. The Grangers checked into a hotel and went to the bank.

In the vault there was a folio of important documents. Hermione looked through and found the deed for a small manor home hidden in Chiltern Hills. The Grange was not so very far from London. It wouldn't be an easy commute for her father, but it would only be temporary. As Hermione and Jason continued to peruse papers and sift through the family vault, Winky and Dobby popped to the Grange and see what needed to be done to make it habitable. After sorting through the folio, Hermione found a copy of the will of Jason's father, Hector Dagworth-Granger. They read it quietly together, then Hermione put her hands down, staring into space, processing what she read.

"Molly Pruitt Weasley was your father's last apprentice," she breathed out in shock. "She stood to inherit the estate if you produced no magical heirs. I'd bet money she is the one who cast the bachelor curse on you. They made you forget magic, and they tried to influence you so you wouldn't have children." Rubbing her hand over her forehead, she then turned to her father who was studying her silently, "But you did. You had me."

Hermione got up and paced, shaking her head at the conclusions her mind and memory were putting together.

"Ron tried to get me to leave the magical world first year, and he was so nasty to me I was almost killed; Ginny tried to kill me second year – oh, she'll say it was Riddle that made her do it, but in the end, she set that snake on me. They wouldn't outright kill me, but they wanted me gone. Then, when they couldn't get rid of me, they decided to pull me into their family. What do you want to bet the attraction draught I was given was keyed to Ronald? The idea makes me ill."

Jason stood and pulled his princess into a hug. His beautiful girl, so abused by this magical world. He wished she'd just been born no-maj and they'd lived a normal life. Magic wasn't worth his daughter's heartbreak.

Hermione pulled out her notebook that afternoon, wanting to tell Harry all about what she had found, but she was reluctant to put it in writing. And she didn't want him to come out of the time compression chamber and immediately begin to fret about her. No, though her knowledge of the situation was new, the conditions were the same now as they had been her whole life. Except she and her parents were now aware and on guard. Instead, she would write it all out in her personal journal.

That evening, Winky reported to them in the hotel suite. The Grange was in perfect condition. It was under war wards and the stasis charms had held brilliantly. Dobby and Winky did the small repairs and cleaning needed and then began to move Hermione's family there – the Granger house was emptied and sold by mid-August. Dumbledore was not able to find them at all, though it didn't seem that he looked much.

There must have been something major going on with Dumbledore for him to give up on controlling Harry that easily!

Jason continued to work at the surgery, though he told Drs. Donald and Emmaline Sutcliffe that he and Bianca were certainly interested in selling the practice, and if the younger couple could get financing, it would be theirs before year end. The Sutcliffes were quite happy with the terms and the deal was struck.

Hermione did some last-minute study sessions, trying to get her mind back to the GCSE's she was about to take.

By the time Harry'd gotten out of the chamber, Hermione was on edge with need to talk to him about all the things she'd found out. Their brief interactions from the notebook, however, just weren't the same as having him listen, really listen to her. The notebook was all she had, though. She continued to study for and take GCSE's and she had Winky get her some more books to research her problems in the magical world. Sipping a drink one evening, she looked out at the freshly-manicured gardens of the Grange. She really wished Harry were here. Though her dad now knew all of the problems she'd had at Hogwarts, she knew he had a lot on his mind already. He didn't need her frustrations that answering one question seemed to open up three or more cans of worms.

She was drawn away from her musings by the peck of the owl on her window. Opening the window, she gave the Gringotts bird a few treats and pointed out the water bowl and perch if it wanted. It was nice to be an important client; her mail forward was now going through the bank, and it would stay that way. No more bobotuber puss letters for her! After she relieved the majestic beast of a package, it sipped at the water then flew to its next destination. Hermione opened the accompanying letter with curiosity.

It seemed that Gred and Forge had been experimenting with the Marauder's playbook and had replicated the mirror process. They'd sent one, linked to one they had, to Harry via his account manager. He had asked for another set and had one delivered to Hermione, via her account manager at Gringotts. From then on, the Grangers could talk to each other, daily. It made the rest of the time separated (though it was only a few more days) much more tolerable. It also allowed the teens to talk over the absolute ant-hill they'd somehow managed to kick over in just trying to get Hermione healthy.

She started by telling him what she'd found about why no one seemed to stand for the muggle born when it came to medical treatment.

"It's worse than you know," Hermione confessed. "There used to be magical guardians – families would take on muggle born. The practice was discontinued because too many families would then force the muggleborn into contracts and such. Heads of house became de facto magical guardians."

"Heads of house? McGonagall is your MG?"

"Professor McGonagall, and yes, she was, before you took on head and contracted with me."

"Why would she refuse treatment? Why didn't she let us order mandrakes for you and Colin second year?"

"I don't know." Hermione worried at her lip and her eyes clouded. Was there truly no one she could trust in the castle that was her school?

Harry tried to change the subject by asking what she'd found in her vaults. She talked a bit about the house and the heirlooms. And then she talked about what she found in the will and the conclusions she'd drawn. After a quiet moment, Harry broached the question he knew they were both pondering.

"What are we going to do about the Weasleys?" he asked quietly.

Hermione paused. "I don't know that we can do anything. The potions aren't an actionable offense in the Hogwarts student handbook."

"Which is just ridiculous." Harry's eyeroll demonstrated his frustration with that idea.

"I think… I'm going to have to resign my prefect position," Hermione reluctantly admitted.

"What? No! I'll follow you on patrols under the cloak."

"It's more than that. He makes me do all the work. I was already tired of doing his work for him when this whole thing blew up. I want nothing to do with him." She was disgusted and resolute.

Harry paused, thinking over the situation.

"I know this is going to surprise you, but I think you should try to talk to McGonagall. Give her one last chance to explain or make things right."

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione corrected absently. "I think I'll do that. How were your OWLS today? Only two more days, right?" She needed to change the subject.

"It tells me how worried about all of this you are that it's taken you this long to ask about OWLS."

"Prat." Her smile belied her impatient rejoinder.

~~ this is a scene pause ~~

After chatting with Harry – late night his time, early, early morning for her, she penned an owl to her head of house inviting that woman for tea two days hence. It was the day before her mum and Harry would be back, she'd be done with her own exams, and she wanted this done. The owl came back with an affirmative (Hermione suspected that Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were both wondering about Harry and this was their first chance to find out anything – hence the quick acceptance!)

Hermione was taking notes on a text she was studying – just because she finished this year's round of testing didn't mean she was done learning – as she sipped a truly excellent cappuccino. Mum and Harry would arrive tomorrow, and they would be going to Greece in a few days. This would be one of her last days to study, and she was making the most of it. She was so engrossed in the text that she didn't notice the bell on the shop ring, but she did sense someone watching her. Raising her head, she smiled at Minerva McGonagall.

She was surprised that the Headmaster hadn't accompanied the professor, but Professor McGonagall was an excellent henchman… woman. Hermione supposed the professor would do whatever Headmaster Dumbledore requested.

Hermione stood and walked to her mentor, hoping this meeting would go well. Smiling, she greeted the elderly witch and offered to order for her.

"I believe they have the best Scottish blend in England, ma'am. And you should try these cakes, they're simply fantastic. This bitter chocolate has hazelnut-laced-cream in the layers. So good. And this cloud cake has just the slightest touches of coconut and lime. They have another one that is raspberry and lemon, if you'd prefer." Realizing that she was rambling, Hermione bit her lip and blushed. She'd never entertained a teacher before.

"They all look delicious. I will take a pot of the Scottish blend, with milk and sugar, and one of the cakes." Hermione added her choice to the order. The barista nodded and indicated he'd bring out the cakes and tea in a moment. Hermione indicated they should be added to her bill, and her teacher accepted gracefully.

As they sat, and Minerva scanned the text of obvious muggle background – science if she wasn't mistaken – that her prized pupil was studying. She didn't comment as Hermione put the text, notebook, and writing utensils away.

"Miss Granger, I must thank you for this invitation to tea. How has your summer been? You look quite well."

"Oh, I am well. Summer has been so busy." She tapered off as the barista delivered the tea and cakes.

"I understand from Headmaster Dumbledore that Mr. Potter has been staying with you? He was certainly surprised by that circumstance and how it came about." Her lips twitched in memory of the frantic order meeting. The Dursleys freely admitted they'd let Harry go and signed a paper that he would be allowed to travel outside Britain. Searching the travel registers and finding out the Grangers were in United States, a place that Albus had absolutely no pull, had been another hullabaloo. The muggle side of the states, no less! But really, the Dursleys were the worst muggles. Hopefully, that child would have actually had an enjoyable time for once in his short life.

"Yes, Harry's been with us since early summer. He's with my mum right now. He and my dad get along like a house on fire. We did some traveling. My parents are healers on the muggle side? They did some research on healing and found there was a clinic in the US I could go to. They invited Harry to come along. There aren't Death Eaters in the US, so we figured it was safe."

"The Headmaster is quite put out…" McGonagall began, trying to put some gravitas onto the hasty decisions of the youngsters.

Hermione put her cup down and looked in her teacher's eyes.

"As far as I am aware, the Headmaster is neither Harry's nor my guardian. The Dursleys had no problem with Harry coming with us for the rest of the summer and signed a paper saying so. After all that happened to both Harry and me last year, my parents wanted to give us a break. The last thing Harry needed was isolation at that house. I wasn't about to abandon him, again, because the Headmaster of our school for some reason wants Harry isolated. And I wanted us both to see a healer in the States, where they don't care what my parents are or that he has a scar on his forehead."

"You do look in good health," McGonagall said, lowering her eyes and looking embarrassed. "That was a terrible curse."

"Can you tell me why you didn't refer me for treatment at St. Mungo's? You are my magical guardian at school, correct?"

"Yes," McGonagall sighed before sipping her tea. "If you'll recall, I was also in the hospital wing at the end of the year. I wasn't my most observant. However, if Poppy had referred you, I would certainly have approved. I wonder why she didn't?" her voice trailed off as if trying to solve a puzzle. "In the end, you found what you needed."

"I needed quite a bit of healing. Aside from the breath of life curse Dolohov hit me with, it seems the time turner you gave me leaked and the petrification from the basilisk was not cured completely by the mandrake potion. And yet, though Madame Pomphrey had me in her ward every year, she's never really addressed any of this."

Minerva was stunned. This hinted to a much more serious dereliction of duty than she imagined. And this young girl… so much trauma! "But you are well?" she asked, very concerned.

Hermione smiled and nodded, sipping at her cappuccino.

"Now that you're back in country," the older woman continued, not wanting to delve into gossip about her co-worker until she had more information, "are you not going to see your friends, the Weasleys? The burrow has been thoroughly warded and I'm sure Molly would love to have you both."

"Oh, we're only back temporarily. My family is going on vacation. We're set to go to abroad in a week and my parents invited Harry to come. Where we are going is supposed to be lovely, and the historic sites are amazing. Harry's never been on vacation, so it should be huge amounts of fun."

"I'm sure you'll find magical areas equally intriguing, wherever you go, but do take care. You Know Who is mostly strong here, in Britain, but he does have some agents abroad."

"Of course. But, well, I don't think many people will be looking for Harry or me outside Britain."

Minerva nodded and took a sip of a most excellent tea. "As much as you get on with the Weasleys, it's good that you're getting time this summer to spend with your own family. However, I am sure discussing your summer is not why you asked me to tea."

Hermione finished swallowing the small bite of cake she had just eaten. She sighed and knotted her hands in her lap. Now was the hard part.

"I was going to write a letter, but didn't know how it would be received. Professor, I don't want to seem like I'm overstepping my boundaries, but I must say this: I cannot be a prefect if Ronald Weasley continues to be a prefect."

The professor put down her cup and looked steadily at her young protegee.

"Explain," Was all McGonagall said in response.

"It was all I could do to pull Ron and Harry through OWLS and make sure that Ron nominally did his prefect duties. I'm sure you've noticed that I wrote all of our reports. No one else would go on patrol with him. NEWTS are going to be significantly more challenging. You know as well as I that OWLS are mostly memorization – fairly easy and of a low level, intellectually and magically. I mean, they're wide in scope, but mostly, they just required a lot of study time. NEWTS are more subtle magics and I simply won't have time to do his prefect duties along with mine and make sure we all pass the exams.

"Also," she hesitated, biting her lip, looking conflicted.

"What is it, child?" McGonagall looked concerned. She understood the first argument, and had, indeed, noticed that Miss Granger did most of the work of the pair. She had assumed it was because Miss Granger wanted to, but this seemed to be a different kettle of fish.

"I don't want to grass on anyone, but... look. Ron's my friend. But he really let his prefect position go to his head. He'd confiscate contraband from younger years but then he'd either keep it for himself or sell it to older students for pocket money. I don't think he ever turned anything in to Mr. Filch. He also took points randomly from kids he didn't like, mostly because they were in another house. He often did it to 'slimy Slytherins' – his words, not mine – and I think with their involvement in the inquisitor squad, they kind of deserved it. But he'd also pick on a 'duffer' or a 'know it all,' just because. The other prefects had started to notice and were retaliating against Gryffindor by the year's end."

Hermione picked up her coffee and sipped as her mentor digested what she'd said. Putting down her cup, she continued when McGonagall stayed quiet.

"I was never strong enough to stand up to him. He just wore me down. Other people wouldn't say anything because he's Harry's friend, and Harry, no matter the slander, is still The Boy Who Lived. If you choose to keep Ronald instead of me, then you need to pick a stronger female prefect to keep him in line, or Gryffindor will be completely isolated in school."

Finally gathering her scattered thoughts from their shock, the professor gaped at Hermione.

"Why did you never say?" she demanded.

Hermione raised a brow. "Were you in school this year? It was a nightmare. What with Umbridge torturing the students…"

"Surely you exaggerate," the deputy headmistress interrupted.

"I don't." Hermione's voice was matter of fact, and the cold delivery only emphasized her outrage. "She made students write lines with a blood quill. For hours! And the goblins have found out…"

McGonagall's mouth tightened. Hermione shook her head, knowing the professor was going to ask why she hadn't been informed. But to Hermione, this was water under the bridge.

"We didn't go to you because you had enough on your plate, and we didn't want to burden you more. And, quite frankly, when Harry tried, you shot him down," McGonagall felt a pang at that. She recalled telling the lad to keep his head down, knowing it was useless since that vile woman had most certainly been sent to the castle to target the lad. She sighed.

"But the toad is gone," Hermione continued, not seeing the conflict in her teacher, "and now you need to know before you make your decisions about me versus Ronald. You can look at the reports, you can talk to Mr. Filch and the other prefects; they'll either confirm or refute what I've said. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know if you want me to continue before the last week of August, ma'am. Maybe when you send our course selection sheets?"

"I suppose you want me to choose Mr. Potter," who had been my first choice, Minerva thought.

Hermione laughed. "Harry wouldn't be much better than Ronald! Well, he wouldn't abuse his authority, but honestly, can you see him volunteering to write reports? Could you read them if he did?!" Her eyes alight, Hermione picked up her cup and finished the last of her coffee.

McGonagall watched as Hermione got out her wallet and some paper that she recalled was muggle money. She'd always wondered how they knew that some parchment had monetary value and other parchment didn't. Alas.

"One last thing, Professor?" Hermione asked as she put her wallet away.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" The professor mentally girded her loins. A rogue prefect in her own house, a professor physically torturing students (as opposed to the emotional and mental torture that Severus was encouraged to hand out), one of her oldest friends possibly being derelict of duty... What more could this precocious young woman put on McGonagall's shoulders?

"Could you take one of each of these cakes back to Hogwarts kitchen? See if the elves can make them? I would really love to see any of them at afternoon tea once in a while."

McGonagall smiled. This was a request she could easily see to.

"I believe the headmaster himself would like to see that, especially if one of them has lemon in it, as you indicated?"

"Is that all it takes? Lemon? I'll have to remember that."

A chortle escaped from the professor's lips. "Enjoy the rest of your summer, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, professor. You do the same!"

~~ this is a scene break ~~

The headmaster of Hogwarts looked at the tracking instrument and lifestone he had on Harry Potter and the ward monitor for the former residence at Number 4 Privet Drive. All but the lifestone were as dead as Caesar.

What had the child done? When he'd first gone traveling with the Grangers, the tracker had been obviously stressed, and for three weeks, it had been still. Harry was too far away for the tracker to work. The ward monitor, on the other hand, had slowed inexorably before stopping completely.

And of course, the death eaters had somehow noticed and burned that residence to the ground.

What a string of bad luck Albus had in July.

The boy had obviously broken the foreign magics on himself, somehow. His best hypothesis was that Miss Granger had gone to one of the many hospitals in the colonies. It would make sense if she forced young Potter to go, also. That would certainly explain how he'd been able to sever the ties Alastor had on him. The wards, of course, would not fall from that, though. He must have left before they'd had time to charge. The thought still made Dumbledore both disappointed and irate.

It wasn't as though the boy had the abilities to sever any of the magics himself, though he certainly had the power. It was really too bad the child was so weak-minded and impetuous. Those wards would never be able to be rebuilt, should Albus decide he wanted them again, would be very hard to set.

Albus massaged his now dead wand-arm and sighed with fatigue. He was grateful to be alive, but what a cost. Even if he wanted to re-cast wards at the Dursleys new residence, he'd not be able to manage it. It was fortunate that he had the elder-wand, as his original wand did not work well off-handed. The resurrection stone, before he'd had to destroy it, had destroyed his ability to naturally cast most wanded magics. What little wanded magic he could perform at this point was only due to the unique nature of the elder wand.

He'd thought his bad luck ended with the Dursley house in July. August was shaping up to be worse.

Albus was slogging through the Hogwarts budget – why on Earth was Rolanda asking for new brooms, again? Hadn't he told her that new brooms would only encourage students to fly too quickly? No, the old brooms helped enforce the restrictions on broom flight – when the wards informed him that his Deputy Head had returned.

He finished up the budget and approved the paperwork for Severus's transfer to DADA – how to get Slughorn to come back, he wondered. If he only had access to Mr. Potter… Minerva alit on his stairs, causing him to temporarily forget his discontent. She might, after all, have information on Mr. Potter.

"Enter," he called when she approached his door.

"Ah, Minerva," he put down the quill and looked up at her with his twinkling blue eyes. "How was your tea with young Miss Granger?"

"Illuminating," she stated brusquely. She put a container of the lemon cake on his desk – it was surely a strange container! Transparent but made of no material she'd observed in the natural world… When she'd purchased the cakes to take to the Hogwarts elves, as she'd promised Miss Granger, she'd picked up an extra slice of the lemon one for the Headmaster. He'd certainly need something sweet for the bitter pill he'd be forced to swallow. "Try this cake; I think you'll enjoy it."

Albus too studied the container. Ingenious, these muggles could be simply ingenious. Tilly popped in with tea – Minerva must have alerted the head elf that he'd want beverage – as he looked at the plastic. It was light, allowed you to observe what was inside, but at the same time, seemed to be slightly sealed to the air. Discovering how to pop it open, he inhaled the heavenly scent. Lemon… raspberry. Conjuring a fork, he took a crumb and smiled as it melted on his tongue.

While he was obviously enjoying his treat, Minerva sat.

"Harry Potter remains inaccessible. Miss Granger quite took me to task over several topics, not the least of which was our callous disregard for the trials and tribulations of the young Potter. Your speculation that they may have found healers overseas is well founded. She looks, frankly, better than I've seen. She did warn me, offhandedly, that we will be forced to look into some things here in the castle. At the least, Poppy has been derelict of duty."

Albus raised an eyebrow, "how do you mean?"

Minerva sighed and sipped at another cup of tea, wishing it weren't too early for Scotch. "Miss Granger was not referred for advanced healing. She took a breath of life curse, Albus. She should have gone to St. Mungo's. Beyond that, she had several lingering issues both from the basilisk incident and the time turner – which apparently had a leak. I assume that DMLE will be approaching you about that."

"It's a family heirloom," Dumbledore stated. He didn't state that it wasn't his family heirloom, but really, Herr Heisenberg's grandson wouldn't mind Albus not telling. "I'll make sure it's not used again."

"Aside from Poppy's ignoring Miss Granger's health… I think of young Mister Potter. He was bitten by a basilisk, Albus, and we never sent him to St. Mungo's. I can't understand what I was thinking! She's a mediwitch. Why didn't I, his head of house, pursue it when she did nothing?"

Albus stroked his beard. It was strange. Of course, he'd noticed at the time and never corrected his deputy. Mr. Potter did not need to be in peak health, and was more likely to accept his fate if he weren't. Also, Tom had agents everywhere; almost certainly in St. Mungo's. Mr. Potter would never have been safe there. Albus would have had to bar treatment had it been requested. But he'd never really stop to think why it hadn't been requested.

The picture had so many pieces. He wondered how many others he had missed in recent years.

"I suppose then we will not be seeing young Mr. Potter until the first of September?"

"He seems well hidden, Albus. If we, who know his habits, cannot find him, I doubt You Know Who can."

Albus took another bite of cake. It was truly lovely. "I will continue to look, though Alastor has informed me that the Granger's house is up for sale. That avenue is lost. Did you cast a tracking charm on her?"

"No. She met me in a very public, muggle venue – on purpose, I think. We must hope that the children continue to practice Alastor's constant vigilance. Molly will be disappointed; Miss Granger has stated that they will all be traveling out of the country again for vacation through August."

Molly would also be disappointed if Miss Granger's accusations about Ronald Weasley bore fruit. But Minerva wouldn't bring that up now. Albus was mostly enjoying his tea, even with his demands for Mr. Potter being denied. Instead, Minerva commented on the papers at the top of Dumbledore's desk.

"I see you're moving forward with plans to have Severus teach DADA. Any idea who you will have teach potions?"

"I had hoped to lure Horace back into the castle; he's not quite safe out there with Tom holding a grudge. Horace blocked most of Tom's professional opportunities, as you may or may not be aware." Minerva wasn't, but she wasn't surprised. Sluggy was bit of a user, but he wasn't a dark wizard and would fight the dark if needs must.

"He would. It would be nice to have a Slytherin influence that isn't completely dark."

"I had an idea there, Minerva," Albus turned the conversation from the obvious jab at his potions master. "Young Nymphadora's parents are in quite a bit of danger as her maternal aunt, Bellatrix, is still at large and almost certainly prepared to kill them at the earliest opportunity. Andromeda Tonks, nee Black, got her potions mastery."

Minerva narrowed her eyes and nodded. "She'd be a good fit - a Black married to a muggleborn. Appealing to both sides. But would she take the job?"

"I think she would if we offered a position to her husband, also. Theodore Tonks is a law wizard, but he has a mastery in history."

"Cuthbert has an unbreakable contract, Albus. We've tried everything."

"He has a contract that I've read thoroughly. It just so happens that last year, our OWLS and NEWTS levels fell below the level for his acceptable performance. He was required to get at least 2/3 of the students successfully through OWLS, and there was a 3-year grace period built in. He's now fallen below the acceptable limit for four years running. If I can get Andromeda and Theodore to accept, I'll banish Cuthbert from the castle that very same day. It is a sin that his own Aunt Eupraxia, a headmistress of this fine institution, put her own family before the needs of students. But that was a century ago. And we can finally move on."

Minerva smiled freely. She wished such a run of bad students had occurred in her own student years, but she supposed the aphorism "better late than never" doubly applied here.

The administrative team of Hogwarts finished their tea, contemplating smaller things, before they separated for the day. There was much to be done.