Response to Reviews:

Guest: I am so glad you like it, and I wish for you - and everyone else - well during these challenging times.

SilverLightning26: Aw, you flatter me! I'm glad you enjoy this story so much!

Mizzrazz72: Yes, yes, he will *grins mischievously*.

Suse B: I see your point. James was most likely more mature when he became a father but still retained his humor - and temper when someone threatened those he cared for.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any Harry Potter characters besides some OC ones that may or may not pop up. I also DO NOT own any story plots that are canon. I do, however, own the things that ARE NOT canon.

Neville entered his room and flopped onto his bed with a groan, his eyes falling shut.

His Gran had 'conveniently' forgotten to teach him about the Wizengamot, and what would be expected of him once he takes his place as Lord Longbottom, so they had been going over it since early that morning and had finished just a few minutes ago. It was now afternoon.

Augusta Longbottom was a grueling taskmaster, and very thorough.

Very. Thorough.

Neville was just contemplating falling back into blissful sleep when the sound of persistent tapping broke through the haze of fog his mind had sunk into. Looking up, he was shocked to see a very familiar owl fluttering outside his window.

"Hedwig?" he murmured before getting up to let the owl inside. As soon as the window opened, the white-feathered avian soared in, and landed on his desk, a letter attached to her leg.

"Oh! Harry must've written me back," Neville realized.

He quickly untied the letter from Hedwig's leg, rubbed her back in thanks, and watched her fly away after she nipped his fingers in affection.

Neville turned his attention to the letter in his hands, and hastily opened it to read its contents.

Dear Neville,

You do not know how much getting your letter made me happy.

I've always known that you were my friend, Neville. And I am glad that you still think of me as one, too.

Thank you for trusting me. You're right, the person I left with really is related to me - he's a distant cousin on my dad's side of the family. I cannot tell you more, just in case our letters get intercepted. Maybe we can meet in person soon and talk then.

But we're not talking about that right now.

Neville, there's something you need to know. You CANNOT trust Dumbledore. You CAN'T. He is NOT what he seems to be. Please, do not trust him. He is not a good person; he is, in fact, the direct opposite.

You said you trusted my judgment for going with my relative. Please trust me on this.

You're more observant than most people give you credit for. You must have noticed Dumbledore's weird fascination with me. You must have noticed how strange his actions have been ever since we started school.

Stay safe.

Your Friend, Harry Potter

P.S Carpe Diem, right?

As Neville read the letter, a frown developed on his face, which only deepened as he examined the rest of the message. However, a smile replaced the frown when he got to the end of Harry's letter.

"Carpe Diem, huh," he said aloud, his mind flashing back to when they first spoke these words to each other.

~Flashback~

Neville sighed as he, unfortunately, walked along the corridor of Hogwarts by himself. Ever since Harry had spoken Parseltongue in front of most of the school at the Dueling Club, it was like the air surrounding the castle became oppressive with all the tension.

No one wanted to go near Harry, not even the Gryffindors, except for Ron, Hermione, the Weasley Twins, Lee Jordan, and Neville himself.

Personally, Neville thought the rest of the Gryffindors, and everyone else who shunned Harry, were idiots, not that he was confident enough to say it out loud. Not only did Harry hang out with Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born herself, but almost everyone in the school knew that Harry's mother was a Muggle-born witch, which incidentally made Harry himself a Half-blood.

Knowing those facts, why would Harry attack Muggle-borns, even if it turned out he was the Heir of Slytherin?

Ridiculous.

He was so far into his thoughts that he didn't notice the other boy until he walked right into him.

"Oomph!"

Neville fell back and landed painfully on the ground. "Ow," he groaned.

"Sorry," a familiar voice spoke up, its tone earnest and slightly timid.

Neville glanced up in surprise. "Harry?"

The messy-haired teen blinked in shock. "Neville?"

Neville grabbed the hand he was offered and pulled himself up. "Sorry," he said. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's okay," Harry shrugged. He then added in a voice that conveyed his next words weren't meant to be overheard. "At least you're talking to me."

Neville couldn't help the slight scowl that appeared on his face at those words. "I wonder if I can hex them all without them knowing it was me," he muttered to himself.

Harry heard him, though, and he let out a snort of laughter. "Trust me; if there were a way, I would've done it by now."

The Longbottom Heir grinned a little. "If you do figure it out, can I tag along?"

The green-eyed teen laughed, and the shadows in his eyes disappeared, if only for a moment.

It was silent for a moment as the two of them just stood there, the quiet peaceful instead of awkward.

"Hey, Harry," Neville began after a while, wanting to tell his friend this while the little bit of courage he felt was still thrumming through him. "You know...you know I think you're innocent, right?"

The other teen nodded before Neville finished speaking. "Of course I do," he said without a hint of doubt. "You're my friend."

Neville sighed. "Good. I-I just wanted you to know that. And when the rest of the school finds out too, they'll be the ones feeling guilty."

Harry shrugged indifferently, but Neville could see the subtle tightening around his eyes and the small tension in his shoulders. "Everyone here will mostly flip flop between thinking I'm their savior and thinking I'm some new Dark Lord. I guess I should just focus on the now, huh?"

"Carpe Diem," Neville nodded absentmindedly in agreement.

Harry frowned in confusion. "'Carpe Diem'?" he repeated.

"Yeah, it's one of Gran's favorite muggle phrases," the blond teen explained. "She likes to say it a lot. It supposedly means 'to enjoy life while you can.'"

"Huh," Harry uttered in contemplation. He then smiled. "I like it. Carpe Diem."

Neville smiled back. "Carpe Diem."

~End Flashback~

Neville, reluctantly, shook himself out of the pleasant memory and turned his attention back to the letter in his hands.

More specifically, the part of the letter that described Dumbledore.

'You must have noticed Dumbledore's weird fascination with me,' Harry had written. 'You must have noticed how weird his actions have been ever since we started school.'

And in truth, Neville had noticed those things. Since he didn't like to speak up much to contribute to any conversation because of his lack of confidence, he did pay close attention to the people and situations around him, which meant that he noticed the Headmaster's odd fascination with his friend.

He had believed that it was because his friend also happened to be 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' and that Professor Dumbledore, much like everyone else, was curious about the one who defeated You-Know-Who.

But after reading Harry's letter and thinking back on things from that perspective, Neville had begun to realize that what his friend had written was right. Over the years, whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner, Neville had noticed the Headmaster observe Harry almost always.

"But why, though?" Neville thought aloud. "Why watch him so closely?"

Another part of the letter's contents flashed in his mind almost as soon as he finished the thought.

'You CANNOT trust Dumbledore. You CAN'T. He is NOT what he seems to be. Please, do not trust him. He is not a good person; he is, in fact, the direct opposite.'

Neville then remembered a passage from the letter Hermione had written before he wrote to Harry.

'Professor Dumbledore said that Harry doesn't have any more relatives.'

"Why is Professor Dumbledore so interested in Harry?" the Longbottom Heir wondered to himself. "And Harry had urged in his letter not to trust him. What could Professor Dumbledore have done to make Harry so suspicious of him?"

He had many questions swirling around in his head, but before he could make sense of any of them, a knock sounded on his door.

"Neville?"

His Gran's voice echoed on the other side of the door. Thinking fast, he grabbed his wand and, with a quickly muttered 'Incendio,' burned the letter before he called out the okay for her to come in.

Augusta Longbottom entered without fanfare, her stature even more towering to Neville seated at his desk. Her face was set in its usual severe expression though her eyes were soft as she looked at him. She wore her customary witches hat with the stuffed vulture on it.

"Neville," she said as she came to a stop in front of him. "I came to give you this." She held out an old leather-bound journal to him, which he took tentatively.

"What is it?" he asked as he began to scan through it delicately.

There was a slight pause that had Neville looking up.

Augusta cleared her throat. "It was my dear Elijah's Journal," she answered, and Neville was startled as he realized he was holding his grandfather's journal. "He used to write in it all the time when he was Lord Longbottom and sitting on the Longbottom Seat of the Wizengamot. I thought that you might find this useful."

Neville gazed at his Gran with unconcealed gratitude. It wasn't uncommon for him to receive family heirlooms from his Gran, his wand was his father's after all, but this was extra special. Not to mention very helpful.

"Thank you, Gran," the teen said softly.

Augusta sniffed. "I hope the journal helps you with your Wizengamot studies. You'll need to know your way around the workings of being a member for when it's time for me to step down as Regent Longbottom and allow you to take your seat. Especially if things will continue to be as hectic as they are now."

Neville looked up from his study of his grandfather's journal. "Hectic?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

Madam Longbottom clasped her hands in front of her, her posture prim and proper. "Albus had been removed as Chief Warlock. Now that he's gone, Minister Fudge is presiding over the Wizengamot, and that man could barely control his extremities, let alone fifty other people."

The Longbottom Heir's eyes widened in response. "Professor Dumbledore was Chief Warlock?"

"Yes."

"Um…"Neville trailed off, trying to find a way to phrase his question. His grandmother was a very observant person. Surely she would have noticed if there was something...off, for lack of a better word, about Dumbledore. Maybe something similar to what Harry might have seen.

"Neville?" His grandmother called out sharply when he didn't immediately respond.

"Was...was Professor Dumbledore a...a good Chief Warlock?" Neville asked, his voice hesitant.

Augusta frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Neville looked down at his knees, unable to keep looking at his grandmother in the eyes. "I-I was just wondering i-if he made g-good judgments."

"Ah, I see." Neville glanced up once more when he heard no scorn or judgment in his Gran's voice. "I suppose he was a good Chief Warlock, not too terrible. Though at times, I did not care for his attitude."

Neville blinked in surprise. "His attitude?"

Augusta pursed her lips. "Whenever Albus had felt that a certain action was the appropriate way to go about something, he would grasp onto it like a Niffler after treasure, and wouldn't consider any other option. As Chief, he was supposed to consider everything before deciding on a particular action."

"Oh." Neville didn't know what more he could say after that.

His Gran cleared her throat. "Well, if that is all, I will be taking my leave then. Lunch will be served soon. I shall see you later."

Neville nodded. "Alright," he said. "Thanks again for Grandfather's journal, Gran."

Augusta merely nodded before turning around and left his room, closing the door after she stepped out.

Neville's thoughts turned inward. 'So Professor Dumbledore can be stubborn about what he views as the right course of action,' he thought. 'Can that be part of the reason Harry doesn't trust him?'

The blonde teen let out a sigh before he slumped in his chair.

'Why must you always be in the middle of a mystery, Harry?' Neville thought with fond exasperation.

Amelia Bones fought to keep herself together as she left another meeting with The Minister with a pounding headache. The man was so clearly incompetent that it baffled her as to how he got any votes to become Minister of Magic.

If there were a time where he contributed something useful to the magical community, Amelia would be surprised.

The way he handled and continued to address Potter's and Dumbledore's allegations about You-Know-Who's supposed return was utterly ridiculous. She would love nothing more than to believe that Potter's claim of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return was untrue, but she was a woman of the law, which meant that every side must be heard. The Headmaster had the person who placed Potter's name in the goblet for the Triwizard Tournament. He had the man in his custody, ready to be questioned and possibly confirm Potter's story.

But because of Fudge's incompetence, they will never know what the man, an escaped prisoner of Azkaban, had to say. The complete idiot had marched in with a Dementor and had the escapee Kissed without a trial. All because he was afraid and believed the stories Rita Skeeter had printed in The Prophet about Potter to be fact.

"That blubbering, floundering, idiotic, pathetic, coward," Amelia grumbled under her breath as she stalked back towards the lift. "No matter their personal beliefs, the Minister of Magic's duty is to their people, which means casting aside their individual opinions and adhere to the law. But that man seems more concerned with image and prestige than he does about the welfare of Magical Britain!"

As she got into the lift, the wizards and witches already on backed as far away as they could. They could sense the rage that the DMLE Head was trying to reign in, which terrified them. However, Amelia didn't seem to notice, too caught up in her dark thoughts.

She got off on Level Two when the lift stopped and began to walk down the hallway towards her office, still angry from talking with Minister Fudge. She was halfway there when she was yanked out of her bitter musings at the shout of her name.

"Madam Bones!"

Amelia's brow raised in surprise as she observed her assistant hurrying towards her. "Emily," she said, her tone one of shock. "What is it that has you running through the halls?"

"Terribly sorry, Madam," Amelia's assistant, Emily, answered slightly out of breath as she stopped in front of her boss. "There is a man here that is waiting to see you. He says it's important."

Amelia's eyes narrowed, and she quickened her step. "What is his name?"

Emily, whose face was flushed from bustling down the hall, hurried after her. "He said his name is Hunter Peverell."

"Peverell?" Amelia muttered. She recognized that name, although she doesn't remember from where. "Did he say why he was here?"

"No," Emily shook her head, "he said that he needed to speak with you and that was all."

"Hm." Amelia picked up the pace, leaving her assistant to follow relatively quickly. Soon enough, they arrived outside her office. "Thank you for letting me know, Emily. Return to your work. I'll send for you if I need you."

"Yes, Madam."

Emily went back to her desk while Amelia moved towards her office and promptly went inside. As she stepped in, a young man sitting in the chair situated in front of her desk immediately stood and turned.

Amelia immediately noticed his vibrant, green eyes, black hair that fell to the tops of his shoulders and over his forehead, and polite smile.

"Madam Bones," the young man said pleasantly. "My apologies for showing up unannounced." He held out his hand. "I am Hunter Peverell."

Amelia shook his hand, not showing her suspicion for the young man's sudden appearance. "Mister Peverell," she said in greeting.

His smile widened a little into something more sincere. "Please, call me Hunter."

Amelia's lips twitched in amusement almost involuntarily. "If you insist." She gestured for him to take a seat before sitting herself behind her desk. "Now, what can I help you with?"

The young man, Hunter, became more serious. "It is not common knowledge yet, but I've become the guardian of Harry Potter."

Amelia was shocked at that - mainly because she was present when Dumbledore insisted on placing Potter with his muggles relatives for his protection - but she hid her shock. "I see."

"I am aware that Harry still has a godfather out there," Hunter continued, "one that was found guilty of betraying Harry's parents to Voldemort" - he ignored her flinch - "and killing Peter Pettigrew. I was wondering if I can read the transcripts for his trial so I can be made aware of the facts and not just listen to gossip and rumors."

Amelia was grudgingly impressed. "I see," she repeated. "Well, usually trials of the magnitude like Sirius Black's aren't public record. However, considering the relationship between Black and young Mister Potter, and the fact that you are now his guardian, I can get you a copy."

"That would be appreciated."

The gray-haired woman pulled out her wand and tapped one of the decorations on her desk. A moment later, her assistant walked through the door. "Emily," Amelia greeted her. "Would you please fetch me a copy of the transcripts for Sirius Black's trial?"

"Of course, Madam," the woman mentioned above nodded, before quickly exiting.

Amelia turned to her guest. "Would you like some tea while we wait?"

"If it is not too much trouble," the young man nodded. "Thank you."

"Ally," Amelia called out.

A house-elf popped into the room. "Mistress called for Ally?" the house-elf questioned.

"Would you please bring some tea for my guest and me?" Amelia asked her house-elf.

The house-elf nodded. "Yes, Ally will be doing that for Mistress," she said, before popping away. Hardly a minute later, Ally returned with a tray of tea with an added pot of sugar.

"Now," Amelia said as she passed Hunter a cup before grabbing the other for herself. "While we wait for Emily to get back, do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

The young man's green eyes flashed, although his face didn't so much as twitch. "I don't mind," he answered mildly before he sipped his tea.

Amelia's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How is young Harry doing?" she inquired.

"Well, actually," Hunter replied immediately. "He's happy to be away from his relatives as well."

"'Happy to be away from his relatives'?" Amelia repeated, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

Hunter frowned at her. "Madam Bones, Harry's relatives were cruel people who treated him like a house-elf just because he has magic. In Harry's words, they wanted to 'crush the freakishness' out of him."

The Head of The DMLE felt herself go pale. "'Crush the freakishness out of him'?" she repeated, her voice small and horrified.

Before Hunter could respond, there was a knock on the door. "Madam Bones?" came the shaky voice of her assistant.

Amelia mentally shook her head and tried to compose herself. "Come in, Emily," she said, her voice only somewhat shaky.

The door opened, and Emily walked in. Empty-handed.

"Emily?" the older woman questioned. "Where are Black's court transcripts?"

The young woman wouldn't meet her boss's eyes. "T-Terribly sorry, Madam," she responded timidly. "But...but there are no court transcripts for Sirius Black."

"What?"

Emily shrank back a bit. "I checked the archives, but I couldn't find them anywhere. I then checked the transcripts for all court trials that occurred in October and November of 1981. None of them dealt with Sirius Black."

Amelia felt faint. "Are you telling me," she said with a wavering voice, "that Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial?"

If possible, Emily shrank back even more. "It...it would appear so, Madam."

The Elder Bones looked over at Hunter Peverell and saw the satisfied gleam in his emerald eyes. "You knew," she breathed out.

The young man nodded with a sharp smirk before he took a sip of his tea. "Of course I did," he replied when he finished. "Harry told me about his third year at Hogwarts when Black was there. He even let me view his memories of the events to make sure I believed him."

The green-eyed man set his teacup down before reaching into his pocket and took out a vial filled with silvery fluid. "These are Harry's memories of what occurred during his third year with Black. I'm sure it will be more than adequate to get him a trial."

Amelia took the vial from him, her motions stiff. Her thoughts were on the fact that the Ministry let Sirius Black rot in Azkaban for twelve years without a trial.

Hunter's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "If you don't mind, Madam Bones," he said as he stood from his seat. "I'll take my leave now."

"Of...of course," Amelia answered, her voice unsteady.

The young man nodded his head at her before he turned to make his way out of her office. "Oh, and by the way," Hunter paused in the doorway to look over his shoulder at Amelia. "I do hope you'll try and get Sirius Black the trial that was denied him all those years ago, Head of The DMLE. I can't imagine what it will do to The Ministry's reputation if it gets out that they continuously deny the Heir of House Black a fair trial."

The older woman swallowed heavily as Hunter's green eyes flashed, even though his face didn't change from its neutral expression. She was well-versed in politics to hear his subtle warning. "I understand."

Hunter's eyes went back to being pleasant, and he smiled. "Good." He left the office, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

Amelia stared at the closed door for what felt like hours as she tried to regulate her breathing.

"Madam Bones?"

The forenamed woman turned her head to gaze at her assistant, who hadn't left since she walked in and gave the devastating news. "Are you alright?"

Amelia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes," she said. "You may leave me now, Emily."

"If you're sure, Madam," she responded. When Amelia gave her a nod, she gave one of her own and left the office.

Amelia sat back slowly in her chair as she went over the conversation in her head. 'How did Black not receive a trial,' she thought to herself with horror. 'Did anyone else get thrown in Azkaban without a trial?'

With her jaw set, Amelia got out of her seat and began to bring out her pensieve.

'Black deserves a trial, whether he is innocent or guilty. If Hunter was telling the truth, then Potter's memories are important pieces of evidence.'

Hunter strolled through the long hallway, away from Amelia's office and back towards the lift. He hated speaking that way to the woman, mainly since he respects her for being one of the few people in The Ministry who wasn't corrupt.

But he had to get his point across, and he did mean what he said. If The Ministry does not give Sirius a trial, he will leak this to Rita Skeeter herself to sensationalize. Despite how he hurt Harry in the past, he didn't deserve to be kept as a prisoner in his own home, unable to go anywhere.

"Besides," Hunter murmured to himself as he stepped into the empty lift. "Freeing Sirius would mean a chance for him to not rely on the coot so much, which means one less pawn for him to move about the board."

Hunter then smirked to himself as his hand reached inside his pocket and pulled something out. "Plus," he drawled inside the empty lift as it began moving again. "Sirius won't be the only thing he loses control over."

The prophecy made about Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort all those years ago sat comfortably in the palm of his hand. It was laughingly easy to get past the Order member guarding the hall of prophecies under an invisibility cloak, using just a Disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not charm.

Hunter's smirk became more shark-like as he stared at the small orb that caused so many problems.

"Your move, Albus."

~Earlier that day~

Molly was tense as she wrung her hands while she watched everyone gathered inside Grimmauld Place. She and her husband and kids plus Hermione were eating breakfast when Tonks' patronus had burst into the room with an urgent message to gather the Order members for an emergency meeting.

So, naturally, she shooed her children and Hermione out of the room, before going to the attic to fetch Sirius and tell him about the emergency meeting. Molly, Arthur, and Sirius had then waited with bated breath and rattled nerves for everyone else to show up.

It had been almost half an hour since Tonks had sent her patronus message, and so far, only Professor Dumbledore was missing.

Tonks had refused to tell anyone anything about why she called the meeting and stated when Alastor Moody demanded why that she won't say a word until Professor Dumbledore got there.

The room's tension was palpable, as most people were exhibiting a nervous tick like Molly was. All except Severus, who stood brooding in the corner, his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face. Tonks herself had not sat down since she got there, choosing instead to pace the room's length.

When it looked like Alastor was about to question Tonks again, this time more angrily, the fireplace flared and out stepped Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor!" Tonks exclaimed in relief, her hair turning into a bright blue bob.

Moody huffed. "About time," he growled.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Are you finally going to tell us why you wasted all of our time on this? Some of us have actual important work to be doing," he sniped at the Metamorphmagus.

Minerva McGonagall and a few others frowned at his tone of voice, but no one disagreed.

Albus held up a placating hand. "No need for the tone Severus," he said, with his tone easygoing and twinkling blue eyes. He then turned to Tonks. "Now, my dear, why don't you explain to all of us why you called everyone here."

Tonks gave a short nod before straightening her spine. "Of course Professor," she said resolutely. "I was watching Diagon Alley as you asked me to. About forty-five minutes ago, I saw Harry and his kidnapper exit from Gringotts."

That razored everyone's focus. Albus lost the twinkle in his eyes and leaned forward eagerly.

"Is he okay?" Sirius demanded a second before Molly was about to, almost straining out of his seat. Remus pulled him back. "Well?"

"He seemed fine, physically," Tonks admitted. "I tailed them to a couple of stores before I was able to get Harry alone in Flourish and Blott's."

"Then why didn't you get him out of there?" Sirius asked furiously. "How could you just leave him like that!"

"That's enough, Sirius," Albus thundered, silencing the Animagus. "There must be a reason why she wasn't able to extract Mister Potter."

"There is," Tonks interjected. "Professor Dumbledore, you were right. The man who took Harry had convinced him that he's a relative of his."

"A man?" Molly spoke up. "This person is for sure a male then?"

Tonks nodded. "Yes. While I stood trying to convince Harry to leave with me, he was capable enough to sneak up behind me without my noticing it. There was no way after that that I could leave with Harry. Not without him stopping me."

"Were you able to get his name?" Albus asked almost anxiously.

"I did. He said his name is Hunter Peverell."

Molly noticed Albus pale almost drastically.

"Peverell," Minerva muttered to herself. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"They were an ancient, powerful wizarding family," the answer came from, surprisingly, Sirius. "The Potters are descended from them." When he noticed the astonished stares directed his way, he added grudgingly, "James used to tell us all the time."

"So wait," Remus frowned. "Does that mean that this man is Harry's relative?"

"No," Albus asserted strongly. "I checked for any remaining members of Mister Potter's before placing him with his mother's sister and her family, and there were none. It is too convenient that this man shows up right after Voldemort was resurrected and trying to get followers."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "There have been no new Death Eaters or supporters by the name of Hunter Peverell."

Albus shook his head. "This man may as well had given a false name. No, the man calling himself Hunter Peverell is dangerous. Tonks, I would like you to keep watching Diagon Alley just in case they show up again. Severus, I would like for you to check it out as well. Maybe this man left behind something we can trace."

"Understood," Tonks nodded while Severus merely scowled.

Minerva leaned forward with a frown. "What did he look like?" she asked. "If he did indeed give a false name, what should we be on the lookout for?"

"Green eyes and black hair that falls to his shoulders and little over his forehead," Tonks told her. "Only a little taller than Sirius, but not by much."

"Understood."

Molly bit her lip as she watched the various Order members begin moving out, with Professor Dumbledore being the first to go through the fireplace and Tonks and Alastor the firsts to move towards the front door.

'The way Tonks described how this Hunter Peverell person looks like sounds as if he really could be related to Harry," Molly thought in worry. 'But is his appearance real, or a disguise?'

Unbeknownst to her or any of the others, in their haste to get the meeting started to see what Tonks had to say, they neglected to put up the wards to prevent someone from eavesdropping.

And no one noticed the end of a flesh-colored piece of string that retreated up the stairs where the other end was in the hands of the hidden Weasleys twins.

When Albus stepped back into his office at Hogwarts, the panic he had hidden in Grimmauld Place made a brief appearance as he began to pace.

"Peverell?" he muttered to himself. "Impossible! Their line ended a long time ago. The Potter brat and Tom Riddle are their only descendants, I checked myself. Who is this man, then? How could he have taken young Harry without me noticing? What is his angle?"

The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses watched Dumbledore pace with grim looks on their faces.

Phineas Black was the only one who showed any amount of glee as he watched the current Headmaster pace and mumble to himself.

"And why is the brat going along with this man?" Albus stated in frustration. "I've made sure that the only adults he could trust were myself and those who trust me. If Tonks' report is correct, why in Merlin's name is the boy so trusting of that man?"

As Dumbledore paced, lost in his thoughts and anger, he failed to realize that one of his knickknacks was flashing. It was the one linked to the Prophecy, and the flashing meant that it was gone.

He didn't know now, but when he calmed down enough to notice his device flashing, his anger would be enough for his office's windows to shatter.

I'm finally done! Wow, that took a while! So glad I was able to finish this!

Thanks to all of you who have stayed faithfully with this story! More chapters to come!