Part Four-Elizabeth

Elizabeth—1940—Age 90

He built a tunnel.

It was so silly, but it was touching, too.

I didn't know whether to be exasperated or furious or proud. He did it because I had to stay late after classes to put that awful Abraxus Malfoy in detention again, and by the time I was ready to come home, it was not only dark, but raining, too. I went up to the teachers' lounge, where one of my fourth years was watching the baby for me.

Minerva was very responsible, and she was one of my definite favorites. I know I wasn't supposed to have favorites, but what teacher really sticks to that ideal? Anyway, since Mother Dumbledore had died a week after the baby's birth, Minerva was one of the few people I'd let watch Asher for any amount of time, especially now that he was walking.

I only had two classes, and they only met on Tuesdays and Thursdays. When the baby was born, I gave over the running of the Dark Force Defense League to John Potter. I still tried to participate in it, but the truth was, this baby was my world. He was a miracle I never expected to happen.

I found myself doing all the typical first-time mother things—measuring his food and timing his naps and tracking the frequency of his dirty nappies—at a time of life when other women were grandmothers, or even great-grandmothers. I went into fits when he got a fever, and teething nearly gave me a nervous breakdown. But a smile, a snuggle, a new developmental step…those things could keep me walking on air for days.

But on that particular day, Asher and I left the school and I let him toddle down the lawn until it started raining. I put an Impervius Charm over us, but I had to set the baby down to settle my bag on my hip, and he ran off, out from under the Charm. I chased him and slipped in the mud on the steep hill. By the time we got home, we were both soaked, filthy, and shivering.

Albus took one look at us and stood up from the table, where he had been reading yet another parenting book—which was all he seemed to read these days, except for Muggle newspapers—and took the baby from my arms.

"Elizabeth!" he said, his deep voice sharp with concern. "What has happened? Are you all right?"

"Nothing," I said, smiling wryly. "Your son ran out into the rain and I followed him. What's the matter?"

Albus shook his head briefly. "Nothing, my dear."

I raised my eyebrow at him, then took out my wand and began to dry myself, because Albus was already drying Asher. Asher was ignoring this and tugging on Albus' long beard.

"Listen to me, my boy," Albus said, trying to be firm, but failing. He spoiled the boy terribly. "You mustn't run away from Mummy."

"Mummy!" Asher cried, twisting his little body in Albus' arms to reach out for me.

I held up a hand. "No, sir," I said, shaking my head. "You just stay with Papa for a bit while Mummy makes dinner."

"I don't like the two of you being caught in the rain," Albus said, having no trouble sounding firm with me. "You could catch cold."

I drew in a breath. "You don't think he has a cold, do you?" I asked, running back over to feel the baby's forehead. He didn't seem hot, so I kissed his cheek where he sat cradled in Albus' big arm.

"No," Albus admitted. "But he might have caught one, my dear. We shall have to find some way of keeping you out of the rain."

I began pulling out the ingredients for dinner and starting them to cook on the stove. With a flick of my wand the knives set about chopping the baby's food very small, then I levitated it over the steam to soften it. We sat at the table eating and talking about our day. At least, we talked in between fussing over every bite Asher managed to eat and laughing at the mess he made. He was a cheerful, funny baby, and he entertained us endlessly.

After dinner, I cleaned up while Albus played on the floor with Asher. Asher adored his Papa, and the feeling was mutual. Even at his age—this was in 1934, so that makes Albus eighty-eight—Albus was the kind of rough-and-tumble father every boy needs, and I smiled at my boys when I heard Asher squeal with delight.

When Asher was finally put to bed—later than he should have been, because neither Albus nor I wanted to part company with him—Albus and I would usually sit in the parlor, reading or sipping tea or talking.

Or making love. I have to admit that I found Albus as a father incredibly sexy, and was often quite happy to put the baby to bed. Of course, as often as not, the baby would somehow sense when his parents wanted some time alone and would wake up in a screaming temper.

But that night, just as I was contemplating whether to sit on Albus' lap or simply sit and enjoy some rest, Albus had other things on his mind.

"My dear," he began, and I glanced up from where I was sitting on the couch, concerned by the solemn tone of his voice. "There has been an emergency meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards called for tomorrow."

"All right," I said slowly. "What's the emergency?"

Albus began pacing, and I could see that he was agitated. "Germany again."

"Shit!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "What now? What have they done? Is it Grindelwald?"

"No, I do not think so," Albus said, shaking his head as he paced. "He seems still to be in Azkaban. But the German Ministry of Magic has removed all half-bloods or less from every ministry position."

"God dammit!" I yelled. "God dammit! How can they let that happen? What are the Muggles doing, Albus?"

Albus kept track of the Muggle world; he and Chuck were in charge of that for the Dark Force Defense League, because we had all learned the hard way that too often political developments in the magical world paralleled those of the Muggle world.

Albus gave a great sigh. "Please, Elizabeth, you'll wake Asher."

I gave him a curt nod, because he was right, but I was angry.

"The German Muggle government has removed all Jews from government employment," he said, nodding grimly when I gasped. "I'm sorry, my dear, I just found this out from Chuck today. He also gave me the name of someone we should be watching more carefully. Adolf Hitler. Do you know who he is?"

I frowned, trying to concentrate through my anger. "He's the new Muggle chancellor, right?"

"He has been in office since last year, but yes, he is the chancellor. I do not know very much about him, but I have learned that he is very interested in Dark Magic."

I could hear the worry in his voice. He didn't have to say what he was thinking.

"It can't be like last time, Albus," I said, approaching him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "We just won't let it get that far. We know too much."

The next day, to Albus' and my extreme distress, the International Confederation of Wizards voted that Germany was a sovereign state and could make whatever laws it wanted to govern the magical population.

It was the worst meeting I have ever attended. Albus and I shouted ourselves hoarse while that cocksucker Black just sat there and smirked, but it didn't do any good. Nobody wanted to get involved, nobody wanted to risk the conflict, even if lives were being destroyed to keep the peace.

I understood not wanting to risk another war, but by not acting now they were practically guaranteeing one.

As the meeting ended, Albus and I walked stiffly to the Apparition point, feeling utterly betrayed—though I don't know why we should have been so surprised, this was the same body that had kicked off anyone who wasn't a pure-blood only two years before.

I noticed Albus staring hard at everyone he passed. I started to ask him what was going on, but he shook his head, and I knew I would have to wait. That was all right; I trusted Albus. And I was enjoying watching the other members panic when Albus gave them that intense look. I'd have run if it had been directed at me, and sure enough, they avoided his eyes and skittered away. Albus can be downright scary when he puts his mind to it.

Finally we got home, paid Minerva for watching Asher, and sent her back to the school. Thankfully, the baby was still asleep, so I sat and waited for Albus to fill me in.

"They are nervous," he said. "They have been pressured by their Ministries."

"How do you know?" I asked, though I didn't really doubt him.

He hesitated before he answered. "I can read them," he said at last. "I have begun to develop some skills in Legilimency. In any case, they think that Germany is asking nothing more than to take its place as a nation again, to re-establish itself after more than a decade and a half of punishment. They see no reason to resist the pressure."

"Do you think it's more than that?"

"I do not know," he said, frustrated. He paced around the room some more, stroking his beard. "Perhaps, but I cannot see it. It seems difficult to credit that it's only that, but I believe that that is all the Confederation members have been told."

"Why didn't they get to us?" I asked, frowning.

Nobody had approached either Albus or me to try to threaten or buy our vote. Of course, I'd have shoved their wands up their arses before they got the words out, but still…

"My dear, you cannot be serious?" Albus said, and he actually laughed a little. "Nobody in the magical world would consider for a moment that you are someone who could be threatened."

"Damn straight!" I said emphatically. Then I sighed, feeling like it came up from the bottom of my soul. "What a fucking world," I murmured, resting my head in my hand. That phrase had become something of a mantra with me in the past few years.

Asher woke up right then, and we ran to him, anxious to have him with us. I held Asher, and Albus held both of us, and in his strong arms, against his broad chest, I felt like we were safe.

Albus began to dig the tunnel that very day. I don't know if the idea of us going out in the rain really bothered him that much, but I suspect that he wanted to feel like he was doing something. Where he picked up engineering spells, I never did figure out.

By the end of the week, the tunnel was finished, running from our basement to a secret doorway behind a statue in Hogwarts. We did use it in the rain, too, just like Albus wanted.

Also by the end of the week, an owl was sent to Azkaban, containing a full pardon and release papers for a noble and faithful son of Germany, the Wizard Gellert Grindelwald. It wasn't sent by the Minister of Magic, though.

It was sent by the Muggle Chancellor of Germany, Adolf Hitler.

That was the beginning. I finally quit Hogwarts; I regretted it, but as Asher hit two, then three, he got so active, and it was all I could do to keep up with him.

I don't know what I would have done without Asher and Albus. I was so distressed by the state of things that sometimes I wanted to give up. How could we have gone through that awful, world-wide war, lost millions of wizards and Muggles, and have everyone so ready to do it again? If it weren't for my two boys, I would have lost all hope in humanity.

But I couldn't give up hope altogether. Every time I saw my son, chubby and content, I saw the sons of Jewish parents going hungry because they couldn't find work.

Every time my Albus smiled at me, I imagined him having been born a Muggle, and I knew I would love him just as deeply, though we might have suffered for it.

Every time we walked down Diagon Alley or through Hogsmeade, free and unquestioned, I thought of all those Eastern European half-bloods and Muggle-borns who were now required by law to wear the emblem of the crossed wands pinned to their robes.

There had even been talk of instituting that here in Britain, of marking anyone who wasn't a pure-blood. The Blacks and the Malfoys were all for that, the great hairy buggers.

Thankfully Albus and Thomas Thomas were still on the Wizengamot, and Albus got support from the Prewetts, Barty Crouch, Augusta and George Longbottom, and Henry Potter, John's son who was just appointed last year, and were able to vote it down. That helped me feel better.

We have our fair share of idiots, but maybe things won't go quite so badly in Britain as they seem to be going in the rest of the world.

Still, by 1940, I could hardly remember a day that passed that we didn't read in the Prophet or hear on the Wizarding Wireless Network that Hitler had taken over some country's Muggle government, and that Grindelwald had gone in right behind him and taken over that same country's Ministry of Magic.

I stayed home with Asher to give him lessons. He was a bright child; how could he not be with Albus as his father?

It was a good thing that Asher was such a quick study, because there were people at our house all the time. I didn't necessarily invite them, either, but many of them were old friends, and I couldn't turn them away, even if it interrupted Asher's schoolwork.

I seldom made Asher leave the room while these people were over, because I didn't want him to be anxious. In any case, he was smart enough to figure out most of what was going on by this time, and I felt he had a right to know, even if he was only seven years old.

When they would leave, Asher and I would go for walks. Through the woods or around the lake, or up to the top of the hill to survey the wild country around us. I liked to walk because the pressures of the demands being made on me were very heavy inside the house, and I started to feel claustrophobic until the people would leave.

Asher liked to walk because it helped him think. He was like Albus that way, as in so many ways. When he couldn't go out, he would pace around the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back, blue eyes flashing with the force of his thoughts.

We walked around the lake now, Asher unashamed to hold my hand. God, I loved this boy. He was so very good, but not so good as to be boring. There were times when the urge to clasp him to me was overwhelming, and I would hold him tight and kiss his dark hair. But my Asher liked his freedom, too, and would only consent to be held for a moment before he ran off.

He picked up a rock and threw it into the lake, jumping back to avoid the splash. "Can you show me how to skip them, Mum?" he asked, turning to glance at me.

I gave him a playful glare; he had only recently started calling me "Mum" instead of the more childish "Mummy," and I teased him about it. If it broke my heart a little, I kept it to myself.

"All right, then," I said.

I picked up a nice flat stone, about the size of his palm, and showed him the angle, the spin. He imitated me, and after a few tries, got it down. And then kept practicing until he was perfect at it. Asher was going to be athletic like his mum, I could tell. He had grace and strength, even in that skinny body. I wouldn't be at all surprised to see him play Quidditch for Hogwarts.

"Is it true you were a dueling champion, Mum?" Asher asked, skipping his fifth rock in a row.

"Of course it's true," I said. "You know that story. Your Uncle Filius and I won twenty-three World Cups in the partner's division, and I won sixteen all on my own."

"But sometimes Uncle Filius won, right?" he prompted, because he did, in fact, know the story.

"Yes, sometimes he did," I agreed. "He won ten all by himself. And he's a half-blood, Asher, remember?"

"Yes, Mum," Asher said. Then he recited, "And it doesn't matter what a person is born, but what he makes of himself."

"That's right, my darling," I said affectionately, hoping to God we were drilling this lesson deeply enough into Asher's impressionable mind. It was very likely he'd be Minister for Magic some day and these were values he needed to have.

We walked a little farther around the lake, Asher stopping to pick up good skipping rocks from time to time and toss them in. I waited, enjoying the late spring day, while the wheels turned in Asher's head.

"Mum, what's the Order of Peace?"

I let out a sigh. I wasn't sure what to tell him, but I knew this question had to come. He had to have heard people talking about it.

"Well, a long time ago, more than twenty-five years ago, there was a very brave young wizard who saw that some things were wrong in the world."

"What was his name?"

"His name was Will."

"Was it really William? Like Billy Weasley, my friend?"

Chuck's grandson was named after Will. The boy was a few years older than Asher, but they often played together, especially when the adults were holding boring talks in someone's kitchen.

"Yes, exactly. Billy's granddad had a twin brother, and his name was William, too. He's the brave young wizard in our story," I said, sitting down to rest on a boulder near the shore.

Asher, who didn't need nearly as much rest as I did, darted around collecting leaves and sticks while I talked.

"Will had a lot of friends who wanted to help him stop the Dark Witches and Wizards, and they formed a group called the Order of Peace, because they wanted to stop the wars, and stop people getting hurt. He found out that a particularly bad Dark Wizard had stolen something very important, something that could hurt the side of Light badly, so he went to try to get it back."

I stopped, swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. The memories took me by surprise, even after all this time.

"What happened to Will, Mum?"

"The Dark Wizard killed him, and then a terrible war started. The Order of Peace tried to save people and to get the war stopped."

"Brave young wizards aren't supposed to die!" Asher said indignantly, finally sitting on the rock beside me. "Who was their leader if Will died? Who took care of them?"

"No," I said slowly, "brave young wizards aren't supposed to die. But sometimes they do. A friend of his, a witch who believed in his work, she took care of them. She was…she was their leader."

"Was she brave like Will?" he asked, clearly fascinated by this new story.

A new voice spoke from behind us, startling me. "She was the bravest witch in the world," Albus said, walking out from the woods and settling himself next to me on the rock. "She was their champion."

"Papa!" Asher cried, and Albus scooped him up in his arms and placed him on his lap. Albus could still toss the boy around like he was a toddler, but I hadn't been able to do that in quite a while.

"Papa, did you know Will the Brave Wizard, too?" Asher asked excitedly. "He was William's granddad's brother!"

"Ah, yes," Albus nodded. "I did know him, and he was very brave. But you were asking about the Order of Peace, were you not?"

Asher nodded emphatically, and Albus picked up the story. "The Order of Peace was a group of spies, led by Will's friend, The Brave Witch. They found out all the things the side of Light required to defeat the Dark Witch Frikka and all the Dark witches and wizards who worked for her. And when the war was over, they went back to their homes and back to their employment, and raised fine, strong children."

There was a pause while Asher watched Albus expectantly. "Is that all?"

"What were you expecting?" Albus asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Why does Uncle Filius keep saying that Mummy needs to start the Order of Peace again?" Asher demanded, unaware that he had slipped into his more childish mode of referring to me. "Why does William's granddad and Mr. Potter and Mr. Thomas keep telling Mummy that they're ready to go whenever she is?"

"Ah," Albus said softly. "Tell me, Asher, what does Mummy say when they say those things to her?"

He slid a glance at me out of the corner of his eye, but kept his attention on Asher.

"She says that she's too old, and she can't do it anymore," Asher said grumpily. "And she says she'll help all she can, but she can't be in charge of the whole thing this time."

"I am pleased to hear that," Albus said wryly, looking more fully at me this time.

"It should have been back up and running for five years already," I said. "I told them that they should get Henry Potter to do it. He's young, and he has two decades of professional Quidditch connections to draw on."

"An excellent idea," Albus murmured, raising my hand to his lips.

Asher rolled his eyes at our display of affection, climbed off Albus and slid down the rock. Albus stood and held out a hand for me, and we walked hand in hand back to our house, watching Asher explore as he went.

"Will you be able to leave it in Henry's hands?" Albus murmured. "He is a strong and competent man. I believe we can depend on him."

"Of course!" I said, glaring at him. "I don't want back in that, Albus! You know that. It's just—" I broke off, biting at my lip.

"What, Elizabeth?" Albus said suspiciously.

I glared at him. "It's just that Henry doesn't know Grindelwald like I do. Nobody does."

"Therefore you will advise him," Albus said sharply, stopping in his tracks. "You can no longer go yourself, Elizabeth. We have a son to think of."

"I know that!" I snapped back at him. "Do you honestly think there's anything more important to me than my son?"

He stared at me for another moment, then took my hand and began walking again. "Of course not, my dear. I just know how you hate to be on the sidelines when important things are happening."

"Yes, I do," I admitted, "but Albus, I might know Grindelwald, but I don't understand Hitler at all. I'm not sure I'd be particularly helpful leading the order, anyway."

"I wish I could believe that, Elizabeth," Albus said grimly.

"Shut up, Albus," I said, pulling my hand out of his. After forty-five years of marriage, he could still make me angry. I started to walk ahead of him, fully intending to catch up to Asher and leave Albus behind, but he grabbed my hand and held it tightly. I was moving forcefully enough that I was jerked back and stumbled against him.

"Forgive me," he said quietly, as he held me to him with an iron grip. I could have gotten away; I'm not so far from my dueling days that I couldn't take down a ninety-four year old schoolteacher if I wanted to. But he was apologizing, and while I wasn't entirely mollified, I was willing to listen.

"You are so strong," he murmured, lifting my hand to his face, but not looking at me.

My anger dissipated, leaving me confused. Albus seemed upset, but I didn't understand why. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.

"You are a hero, Elizabeth, who has already saved the world once…"

"I didn't—" I objected, but he silenced me.

"And you have a heart big enough to try to do it again," he said. He still wasn't meeting my eyes. "I am afraid for you."

I frowned. "I told you I wouldn't do that again. I'm not running the Order this time."

He nodded. "I believe you, my dear," he said. "But some people always end up in the midst of trouble, whether they seek it out or not."

"I don't go looking for trouble!" I said indignantly, only slightly distracted by the feel of his beard against my palm. "Trouble usually finds me!"

"Exactly my point, my dear," he said, closing his eyes as though he were in pain.

Then he opened them and his eyes, when they finally met mine, were blazing blue. "I cannot live without you, Elizabeth. Asher cannot live without you. I do not doubt that you could effectively resume your duties as head of the Order, but I am asking you not to do so. Please, Elizabeth. For Asher. And for me."

His words troubled me deeply. I don't know why; I had already told him a dozen times that I had no intention of resuming my position in the Order. But Albus almost acted like he knew something that I didn't, like he could see something coming that would test my resolve to stay on the sidelines.

"Albus," I said, "my darling, I swear to you that I will not resume leadership of the Order." I stood on my toes, placed my hands on both of his cheeks, and kissed him gently on the lips. "I will help as much as I can from here, but I won't leave our home, our village. All right? Is that what you need?"

Albus caught me up in his arms and kissed me long and hard. My feet dangled off the ground as I tangled my fingers in his long hair. His need washed over me, so dark and desperate, that I would have given him anything he asked for, any promise, any piece of me. I might have done, too, even though we were right out there next to the lake, had not a childish voice broken in on our kiss.

"When you've quite done…?" Asher said, and I broke away from Albus' lips to look at our son. He stood there, one eyebrow raised, his fingertips steepled in front of his lips, in such a perfect imitation of his father that I burst out laughing.

"I don't know," I said, still being held aloft in Albus' arms. "Are we quite done?"

"Not yet," Albus said, and he gave me one more kiss, then put me down. "All right, I suppose now we must be done."

He hefted Asher onto his shoulder, took my hand, and we continued to walk until we reached home.

The following evening I was preparing dinner as Asher sat at the kitchen table reading his lessons. He was so very intelligent, I wondered if he could be allowed to start at Hogwarts a year early. Perhaps I would go up to the school and talk to Armando about it; the school year was almost over, so it might be a good time to bring it up. Of course, Asher wasn't yet eight, so there was really no rush….

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting my thoughts, and Asher jumped up. "I'll get it, Mum," he said, racing to the door. I smiled, remembering that I was the same way; never walking, always running, racing, dashing. "Uncle Filius!"

"Hello, my boy, hello," Filius said fondly, patting Asher on his curly head as Asher hugged him around the waist. Asher wasn't that much shorter than Filius. Asher released him and sat back down at his place, and Filius came to stand by me at the cupboard. "Albus has asked me to tell you that he will be home late, and that he will be bringing visitors."

"Visitors?" I asked, surprised. "From the school? Who?"

"I don't know," Filius said, his fingers darting between chopping blades to steal a slice of cheese. "But he did not wish to send an owl, so he sent me to tell you. He also said that the visitors might be requiring dinner."

"Did he want us to wait?" I asked, puzzled.

"I don't think so," Filius shook his head and snatched a piece of celery. "But I'll be glad to take his place."

"I'm sure you will," I said, rolling my eyes. "Well, it's almost done. Asher, darling, set the table."

We were just sitting down when I heard the sound, not of the front door, but of the trap door leading to our tunnel. Filius and I exchanged glances; it wasn't raining. There was no reason for anyone to be using the tunnel.

"Elizabeth?" Albus' voice came up from the bottom of the ladder. A moment later he strode into the kitchen. "Hello, my dear," he said, kissing me on the cheek. "Hello, Filius."

Asher jumped out of his chair and ran to his father, exactly as he always did when Albus came home. Albus picked him up and set him on his hip for a moment, then said, "I have brought us visitors, Elizabeth. They have had a difficult journey, but I feel we might be able to give them assistance."

"Of course," I said. "Have they eaten?"

"Not for quite some time, I fear," Albus said grimly.

I stood up immediately. "How many?"

"Four," Albus said, smiling at me. "One is a baby."

"Asher, set three more places," I said, turning to send two more loaves of bread into the oven for warming and putting a new pot of stew on to boil. "Filius, go up the attic and get Asher's old high chair. Albus, are you going to leave them sitting in the basement all night? Go get them!"

The family shuffled up through the hallway behind Albus, and my heart immediately went out to them. There was a young couple, a girl about Asher's age, and a baby. The baby was wailing, but no sound was coming out; he had obviously been put under a Silencing Charm. I looked at Albus, who was giving me a significant look back. These people weren't simply travelers. They were refugees.

On their coats they each wore the emblem of the crossed wands. They were Muggle-borns or half-bloods, obviously fleeing for their lives. The man wore a pack, and that seemed to be all they had, though perhaps some of their belongings had been Vanished. I hoped so.

"Elizabeth, this is Ivan and Svetlana Karkaroff," Albus said. "This is their daughter Anna, and their son, Igor."

"Please, sit down," I said, waving my wand and conjuring some comfortable chairs.

Albus gestured them to the chairs, where they collapsed rather than sat. Filius came down from the attic and we put baby Igor in the chair with a piece of bread and a cup of milk. They ate hungrily, but politely, and while they ate, Albus finally told me what was going on.

"They are family friends of the Honeydukes," Albus said. "The Bulgarian Ministry of Magic has taken everything from anyone who isn't pure-blood, and they were fortunate to escape with their lives and their wands. Half-bloods are being sent to concentration camps."

"They can't do that!" I said, though a part of me was simply no longer surprised at the atrocities people were capable of. "How can they keep witches and wizards locked up?"

The man looked up at me, a dark piercing gaze. "Dementors," he said succinctly. "They come to our houses, they guard the camps. We cannot fight them forever."

The little girl began to cry, and her mother pulled her up onto her lap. "We go to America," the young woman said. "We do not go to camps."

"No," I said fiercely. "You will not go to the camps."

They thanked us for dinner, and made as though to Apparate right away, but I wouldn't hear of it.

"You can wait a little while longer," I said. I put the little girl in the bath, put fresh clothes on the baby, and Albus and I found clean clothes of our own to dress the parents in. We didn't have any clean girl's clothes, so I put Anna in trousers and a shirt of Asher's. Neither of them looked happy about it, but she was clean, and with a look from me and Svetlana, neither child dared to complain.

I took Svetlana aside and handed her a money bag, with enough money to hold them for a few days, until they reached their friends in America. Her eyes grew wide, and a few tears spilled over and down her face.

"Thank you," she said. "You will always be in the heart of our family. We will never forget the kindness you have shown us. One day we will be back in our homeland, and our children will tell the story to their children."

She kissed both of my cheeks, then reached down for the baby, who settled in sleepily on her shoulder. The little girl held her father's hand, and seeing that everyone was ready, Albus chanted the spell to drop the anti-Disapparition wards over our house. When he was done, the little girl waved goodbye, and they were gone. I looked over to see those hateful badges resting on our table, and I was fiercely glad they had left them behind. I threw them in the fire and felt fierce glee as they burned.

The Karkaroffs were the first of nearly five hundred refugees who passed through our house. They were never coming here to stay; too many foreign witches and wizards would have been noticed and brought to the attention of the authorities. They were usually going to the United States or Canada, but often their wands had been confiscated and their Floos closed off, so they had to get to a safe place in order to Apparate.

There was an underground line into Hogsmeade that would get them to Honeydukes or to the Hog's Head, but they couldn't leave from those places; they were too public. They were in a populated area, and there was a travel curfew in town.

So they went from there to Hogwarts—there was a tunnel between the Hog's Head and Honeydukes, too, and Honeydukes had an old tunnel to Hogwarts that Albus and Filius reinforced—and from Hogwarts to our house. Our house was on the outskirts, where they could Disapparate, fly, or Floo without being seen or heard.

We had a whole network, part of the Order of Peace, that would fly over for a casual visit and "accidentally" leave behind a broomstick or a flying carpet so that people could get out.

And that bug-eyed Ollivander gave us wands, bless him. They had to have wands, and they were often so moved by getting them that they couldn't speak. Wands were often the first thing confiscated from Muggle-borns, and we were putting magic back in their hands.

But more than that, wands meant freedom, and our house was the last stop before freedom.

In the meantime, Asher was learning languages from all the people who passed through our house. He was learning about the things going on in the wide world, and developing a streak of compassion, not to mention an anger that I considered right and proper.

I watched him with pride; he was as much a help to me with our refugees as anyone. He knew right from wrong, and cared enough to do something about it, even before he was old enough to start at Hogwarts.

But that time finally came, in 1944.

The work with the refugees gave me a way to help without having to break my promise to Albus. I hadn't been lying; I really had no intention of resuming my work with the Order, but Albus had been right, too. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Our work with the refugees gave me a way to help, to show my son that good people get involved, without placing our home in more danger than necessary.

So I was sad when it was time for Asher to leave our home for the castle. I know we had it better than most; if Asher leaned out the castle window and waved, I'd be able to see him. And Albus would be with him every day, at least until dinner time, so he wouldn't have to be lonely.

Not that Asher would have been all that lonely. He was an independent child, and was probably looking forward to being on his own. I would be lonely, though. Albus and I would both miss our boy. He was everything to us.

He insisted on going to London. Merlin, that boy was as stubborn as his father. We live a half mile from the school, but he insisted on Flooing all the way to London and taking that seven-hour train ride. I understood that; he wanted to be like everyone else. So, Albus and I clung to each other like everyone else on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, crying and waving and promising to write.

Of course, Albus would see him later that day at the Feast, and I would write to him before bed that night.

Asher was sorted into Ravenclaw, much to our surprise. Filius was over the moon about it, though, and never missed a chance to draw sides between us during holiday dinners. On Christmas Filius gave Asher a full set of blue and silver dress robes with a silver eagle embossed on the back. I have to admit they complemented his bright blue eyes perfectly.

That Christmas was utterly beautiful. The food was perfect, the gifts were exquisite, the homemade mead flowed freely. We had no refugees that holiday; it was me and Albus, Asher, Filius, Aberforth, and Minerva.

I don't know what it was, but I have never been so happy. I had my true love and my friends, my son was back from school, and by all accounts the war was ending. We all went to bed feeling the joy and cheer one is supposed to feel on Christmas.

The next day the three of us went shopping in Hogsmeade, my boys and me, just to enjoy the cold air and the holiday atmosphere. I had sent them into the Three Broomsticks (I love my brother-in-law, but I'm not sending a child into that pub of his) to wait for me and order some warm butterbeer while I went to buy Asher his favorite sherbet lemons at Honeydukes. I had a warm chat with the Honeydukes and had just come out their shop door and stepped into the street when it happened.

The air went still and all the sound was sucked out of it. Everyone stopped moving. I had my wand out before I even knew why, before I even registered that things were moving in slow motion.

Asher had come out of the Three Broomsticks and was running toward me, not looking, not seeing the dark swirl of robes that materialized in the middle of the street. The black gloved arm snaked out and grabbed my son around his throat. Asher couldn't get to his wand, Albus was only just now stepping out the pub door, and I was the only one who could see what was happening.

I raised my wand.

"Do not move, mein lieb," said the cold voice beneath the hood of the cloak. I knew who that was. I knew who had come after my son.

Albus was now standing opposite me in on the curb, his wand drawn, his eyes blazing. I could feel the air shake with the force of his wrath. Or maybe that was mine. Asher was pale, but his jaw was clenched and he did not cry.

I will never know where an eleven-year old got such courage.

"You have something I want," Grindelwald said, and I noticed that his voice sounded different. "Bring it to me here, one week from today, or I will kill your son."

"I don't have it," Albus said. I didn't know what he was talking about. I had to get to my son.

"Then you will find it," Grindelwald hissed.

He held a hand up in the air and steel talons pierced through the gloves, then raked across Asher's face. Grindelwald delayed long enough for us to watch the slow motion progress of blood dripping down Asher's smooth skin, then he Disapparated, leaving Asher to stumble toward me once the arm holding him was released.

I ran for all I was worth, though it was only a few steps. Albus ran, too, and we met in the middle of the street. Albus guided us to the Three Broomsticks where I sank into a chair and sobbed, and Albus gave Asher a swallow of firewhisky to bring some of the color back to his cheeks. Once we were recovered enough to talk, Albus called the Auror corps and told them what had happened. All through this I wept with terror, all sign of that brave girl lost, but Asher was silent.

Finally, when the Aurors had gone, when a guard was promised for our house, and when I could put two thoughts together again, we made to leave. The attention we had attracted was wearing on us. And it was only then that Asher spoke.

Laying a hand on either of our arms, our son said "Papa, Mum, I think there are some pieces of the story you haven't told me. I'll be wanting to know."