A/N So sorry for the delay! I've got the next few thousand words after this chapter written. PS the reference to global pandemic is purely coincidental and written in late February when what-shall-not-be-named was merely a glimmer. Sure this story is littered with warnings on the benefit of hindsight so I will merely accept my prophetic leanings.

Albus Dumbledore was having a rather lovely morning all things considered. All was well within Wizarding Britain especially as he'd been able to convince the Department of Transport head, Havell to hire that nice but admittedly slightly dim Macmillan. His father's gratitude would prove particularly useful in the upcoming Wizemagot trials. That morning he'd even managed to avoid most of Trelawney's monologue on his discouraging aura shooing her out of his office with vague promises of his next tea leaves. Stretching out, sucking his 11am lemon drop, the headmaster was perfectly content, to the extent it seemed nearly cruel to interrupt him. However, that unsavoury task fell to Filch whose torture daydream that day (thumb screws with a pinch of the cat o' nine tails) whilst cleaning the external great hall windows had also been interrupted by a mad foreign woman storming into the castle demanding an audience with Dumbledore. Whilst he had initially refused, her threat of manure on his newly polished floors were too personal to ignore. Therefore, the headmaster was interrupted by said angry woman as well as an almost apocalyptic caretaker. Groaning internally Dumbledore stood up to avoid any more shouting from his cantankerous employee.

"Mr Filch… Madame what on earth is wrong? How can I be of assistance?" he asked the pair smiling benevolently.

"Monsieur Domm…blu…door" he winced at the mangling of his surname "I need an urgent meeting with you" the woman demanded.

"Well madame, I am a busy man, so if you would owl me with your request I will try and arrange a time for our little chat. Although, I'm sure you will appreciate my current schedule is not particularly flexible.." he replied fully in his benevolent shooing mode.

"Non" she interrupted "You will not ignore me. I have an urgent issue to discuss and we will be doing this today. I would suggest you banish this silly man; we will sit down and talk". Her voice was not raised but the sense of steel that underlined her tone implied that this was not a mere social call.

Filch near exploded at this insult and even Dumbledore's benevolent façade slipped for a minute. "Madame I assure you I am not in the mood to be dictated to. Now kindly leave my office and my school."

"Non, I will not kindly leave" her tone was scathing. "I think you should see this first before I leave" and pointed at the first few words of a letter.

These first three words, written by someone Dumbledore barely recognised this many years later "My darling Gellert" had a peculiar effect on its author, as witnessed by the caretaker. The headmaster managed to remain standing but his whispered "Filch leave now" was said in a tone that left chills down the departing man's back.

After Filch had positively scarpered out of the office, without acknowledging the woman in his office Dumbledore set about a mad frenzy of complicated wand movements and strange barely audible chants that Madame Villiers surmised was to ensure utter privacy. Finally, he turned with a strange smile, near grotesque in its thinly disguised attempt to be charming and ushered his intruder to a seat with a "Now my dear lady, I think we can sort out this little issue".

"Non"

The professor held up his hands in an attempt of a conciliatory approach. "My dear lady I know what it is you need or rather your mistress. I'm sure we can have a little chat and I can seek to a little extension to your visa… say three months?" The woman could almost see the sense of superiority ooze out of the man like pus. Whilst she was inwardly seething, she couldn't help a small inward smile as the French woman realised his desperation.

"Non. We will not be 'aving a little chat and you certainly do not know what I need." Disdain was dripping from her every word.

"Madame… really there is no need for such hostility" Dumbledore blustered.

"Well… you 'ave not replied to any letters so… it seems this method you will reply to" she shrugged.

"So Monsieur Dumbludoor this is what will happen. I will not publish your wonderful little love letters to a teenage psychopath, and you will ensure I can stay in England with my daughter. You stay hero of Wizards and I don't go back to Lyon. Fair is fair no?"

Dumbledore rose up to his full height and with a frosty tone he attempted to regain control of the conversation. "Madame I have no idea why you thought blackmail was a good idea, but I assure you I have a great deal more sway with the Daily Prophet than the average French whore. It was I who suggested to the late Mr Swift back in 1950, Andrew should be given a chance and well he was appointed editor last year. You'll be laughed out of dear Andrew's office and then a little run in with the aurors for attempted blackmail will sweeten your final hours before deportation."

The French woman recoiled a little at the underlying threat but quickly regained her fire. "Well, it's a good thing my employer is desperate for me to stay and whilst being the voice of history in your school she also happens to have numerous loving nephews especially her dear Andrew who just happens to be her godson as well."

Dumbledore went cold at that infuriating little shrug that accompanied the woman's trump card. She was right and indeed, one of the reasons he stayed close with the frustrating old historian was that a carefully placed word from his beloved aunt could influence much of the Daily Prophet's editorial decisions. How else would Severus Snape be appointed potion master with little fuss and drama without a careful suggestion to Bathilda Bagshot that it did no good for children to have their teachers scrutinised and criticised. It seems he was well and truly beaten and the Minister for Immigration Cartwright did owe him a favour. The little incident in June with regards to the stealing and smoking of certain mushrooms perpetrated by Cartwright Junior had been quietly covered up thus ensuring young Stewart could proceed onto the Auror training course. Boys will be boys and all that.

He shrugged in return. "Very well I'll speak to the Minister about your case but in return I'll expect proof of your promise. An Unbreakable Vow will suffice."

Claudette allowed her shock to show for a second before regaining her candour. "As you wish but I will of course require my own."

Damn! This woman was clever. "As you wish. I'll call my lawyer to perform the charm he is of course bound to his own secrecy."

It took several minutes but as she finished writing the exact wordings of Dumbledore's obligation a little wizened man appeared through the fireplace. Although the French woman didn't know it, Cassius Olivier was renowned among certain circles as being prepared to legalise any shady deal as well as acting as the defence for many a Pureblood ensuring dropped charges amidst generous donations to various foundations with shaky charitable intent. He had personally popularised the Imperius curse defence after its success in the Malfoy case.

Dumbledore held out his arms with a "Shall we" in mocking courtesy as if inviting her to dance instead of committing a crime.

She gingerly grasped arms and Olivier began to weave the spell around the entwined arms. "Do you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, promise to ensure that both Claudette Antonia Villiers and Elodie Rose Villiers will always have a safe home in England and that they will be both under your protection until your death."

"I will"

As Olivier turned his spell power towards Claudette, she muffled a gasp as the words of her promise embedded themselves into her very bloodstream. "Do you, Claudette Antonia Villiers, promise that you will never share any knowledge of Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore's relationship with Gellert Grindlewald with a single person, being or corporation for all the days that you live."

"I will"

With that final binding promise, the spell fire disappeared leaving a silver line on both participants' forearms. Olivier vanished into the flames.

"Madame Villiers"

"Oui" she turned to face the headmaster who was staring at her with barely hidden rage.

"Leave"

"Gladly"

Hindsight can be a wonderful thing, but it is a question of mere academic interest now wondering which party looking into a crystal ball would regret that deal more. Would Claudette Villiers rue the day she consigned her daughter to much hardship and would Albus Dumbledore consider that the publication of his teenage love affair be a breeze to what would come. Well that question is purely theoretical now and for the next few years it appeared that both parties happily managed to put that half an hour in the office firmly behind them.

February 1987 (Harry Potter is 6)

Indeed, sitting in his office that cold February day in 1987 the events of 1982 was far from Dumbledore's mind. The Dragonpox epidemic was finally under control after wreaking havoc through the old seats of the Wizemagot. The old guard such as Abraxas Malfoy, Edmund Avery, Euripides Fawley, Angus Macmillan were among the chief casualties, but it had resulted in at least nine Hogwarts beds left empty at the start of term and many more losses of a parent or grandparent. The return from Christmas holidays had been muted with many late returns. Dumbledore certainly mourned the loss of some, but he was already planning his visits to the numerous grieving heirs preparing to step up to the upper echelons of Wizarding justice and law. The offer of help to adjust to such a great position was really only a kindness and he had such an easy bill for them to vote in to ensure the centaurs did not approach on the new Quidditch pitch.

However, the Chief Mugwump's musings were cut short by a letter shooting through the fireplace with the unmistakeable appearance of a missive from the Ministry. He sighed eternally anticipating yet another catastrophe from the new man Fudge but was surprised at seeing the mark on the envelope from the Office for the Wellbeing of Wizarding Children. It was truly an absurd little venture and a relic from that madman Crawley who he had been unfortunately forced to depose after the words "Hogwarts inspection" emerged from his lips. Sighing internally about the anticipated requests for absurd statistics such as the previous demand for the number of head wounds after Quidditch he opened the letter.

It was not a statistical request.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

As you will be aware due to the recent Dragonpox epidemic many of our children have suffered bereavement. Whilst the vast majority have been fortunate enough to still have a parent or other relative we have one child with no one.

A certain Elodie Rose Villiers has been left without a relative to speak of after the death of her mother Miss Claudette Villiers on 15th January due to Dragonpox complications. Attempts to find any father or relative in Lyon has not been successful. Miss Villiers' will has been revealed and it states that you have been named a guardian and sponsor of the child.

If you would come to our office today to discuss this matter it would be much appreciated.

Best wishes,

Susan Finnegan

Head of the Office for the Wellbeing of Wizarding Children

Damn Damn Damn

With a loss of control Dumbledore hurled the offending piece of parchment to the floor alongside ink.

Of course, he wouldn't have anything to do with this brat of a French whore. Let it go to one of those orphanages that had served a particular Dark Lord so well. Yet with that thought came an overwhelming pain from a silver line in his forearm the professor had tried to erase with no success. It seemed it would be time to call the lawyers again. Really, this Elodie Villiers was costing him a small fortune in lawyers' fees.

The pain from the Unbreakable Vow had nearly faded by the time Dumbledore finished his consultation but had been replaced by the pain of this colossal headache. Despite the small fortune he was paying the slimy man it appeared that Ms Villiers's Unbreakable Vow was rather, well unbreakable. There were four options.

Send her to the muggle world for fostering.

Magical Orphanage

Magical family

Dumbledore

After the events in the office she had apparently written to Olivier detailing exactly the type of "safe home" she was expecting which included the need for a magical presence. Apparently the brat had experienced rather serious episodes of accidental magic so was not safe to be in the presence of muggles. So the muggle world was out.

There was technically an orphanage which catered for magical children. However, due to the traditional natures of magical society including the interbreeding they weren't overly used as inevitably some relative would be found. Even if they hated children, there were always house elves to look after the devils and they'd be off to Hogwarts soon which would soften the sting in contrast to the shame of having a family member in Spinks Institute or Squints its more common name. Many a misbehaving Wizarding child had altered their behaviour after a threat to owl Squints. The origins of the nickname of the institution alluded to the defining characteristic of the children or "Squinters" who lived there. These children wouldn't be accepted into Hogwarts and were generally werewolf children, squibs or near squibs or the occasional child of a desperate Knockturn Alley prostitute. They'd be there for a few years and then released at fifteen or whenever they ran away. The discrepancy between the number accepted and released was notable. Filch had been a Squinter and Hagrid had nearly succumbed to that fate if Old William hadn't apprenticed him. Dumbledore knew his brother had taken a few on as well as the hospital. Anyway, it seemed living under the care of the ghastly Agnes Spinks wouldn't fulfil Ms Villiers's demands. So that was out.

A magical family was technically possible but due to the treasuring of blood, fostering wasn't necessarily an embraced concept in the Wizarding World. Even blood adoption was an antiquated measure after the new blood from the European families starting coming in. The Russini, Malfoy, Lestrange and Zabini families had all played a significant part in sustaining Wizarding Britain simply from their sharing of genes. Olivier was investigating but any foster parents would only take a baby and with anti-French sentiment still being as it was, a ten year old with a notable French accent was not desirable.

As per Cartwright's speech in the corridor of 1982 the only words able to be repeated from Dumbledore's internal monologue are variations on "Damn the bloody French". It was unfortunate that this problem also coincided with the stupid half breed taking up the reins at this ridiculous school on the Alps…. Which may just solve his problems.

It was only a few months until September so if this French brat could live somewhere he'd be free when September came. Most likely Hogwarts he realised with a grimace. There would be a scandal if the eminent bachelor was seen to be caring for a child so she would have to be hidden. There were plenty of small storage areas in the castle which he hadn't fully explored yet. Indeed, he still didn't know where the house elves slept. Hide the little cockroach for a few months and then ship her off to France for Beauxbatons. Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain so it would fulfil that Gallic cow's ridiculous vow. Conveniently, Beauxbatons offered all year boarding. She'd have to pass some test but that could be discretely arranged.

So, plan:

1. Speak to house elves to arrange accommodation and emphasise need for secrecy.

2. Collect said inconvenient baggage. It wouldn't do for his image to be tarnished by sending a house elf.

3. Clarify exactly how to send her to Beauxbatons. It would be pricey, but this was an occasion to throw one's money about.

After speaking to head house elf Mopsy, he reluctantly apparated to the OWWC. Due to its limited budget it wasn't actually in the main Ministry building but in the equivalent of a magical shed, yet still discretion was needed. The half dead secretary sent him into the head office of Ms Finnegan who was already in discussion with Olivier. He affected his affable demeanour and ummed and ahhed at the appropriate moments. Formalities complete with a little pointed memory charm, Elodie Rose Villiers was effectively his ward until she turned seventeen as well as erased from the system. As he left he made a mental note to suggest said office be in line for the budget cuts required to cope with the Dragonpox epidemic.

The child, in question, Elodie was incredibly confused. Bathilda had been infected first and the particular strain she had encountered went straight to the brain and well, she wasn't really intellectually there anymore. With news of the historian's committal to St Mungo's the relatives had come swarming out of the woodwork. A gaggle of Bagshot nieces and nephews had come straight to the house to "nurse" their aunt in hopes of her gratitude adding them to her elusive will. With their invasion, they had quickly thrown the Villiers out of the house despite Claudette clearly being ill. With no other choice, the little family had gone to St Mungo's. Claudette was admitted to the wards and Elodie left to the waiting room. Claudette had died in little less than a week and the run of their feet Healers had palmed Elodie off to the OWWC. In just two weeks, the ten-year-old had lost her mother, home and quasi grandmother figure. The OWWC had taken a week to trace Dumbledore whilst she had stayed at an older couple's house who had been promised to be boosted up the baby list if they had her. Elodie had been deposited at the office from 8am to 6pm every day left with merely a sandwich and two-year-old copies of Witch Weekly, resentfully collected by the Dawsons, furnished with something for dinner and sent upstairs. There had sometimes been other children in the waiting room, but they were always collected within a few hours by loving grannies, uncles and godparents. Yet she had waited.

Finally, today Ms Finnegan had told her they'd found someone to get her. She'd kept her coat on all day and finally a tall wizard had floated into the office. She'd been too scared to speak in the office, but he seemed kind. He had only spoken once to tell her to hold onto a dirty looking tin can. The feeling of moving through space had made her feel sick but she was now in an office with lots of whizzy things and looking down at her was the wizard.

Well she wasn't up to much. Dumbledore thought as he looked down at the brat still looking queasy from the Portkey. She was small with blond hair in two plaits wearing a red coat carrying a small battered traditional leather suitcase. He sighed and called for Mopsy the house elf who appeared with a crack.

"Mopsy, this is Elodie Villiers. Take her to her accommodation and make sure she stays out of sight." He commanded. Before the house elf could take the child he continued, "Elodie!"

The girl looked at him clearly exhausted and confused. "It is imperative you stay out of sight. I don't want anyone to know you are here."

Her eyes widened and nodded as the house elf took her hand and with a crack she was magically transported again for the second time in ten minutes. They landed in a large kitchen where many house elves were gathered. They were still cleaning but it was a relaxed atmosphere with jokes, teaching the younger elves and socialising. When they saw the human girl they froze.

"Mr Mopsy what is this kerfuffle? Why is there a little big person here? What is she?" A babble of voices rang out.

"Stop." Mopsy's voice rang out clearly with authority behind him. "This is Missy Elodie. She will live with us. Professor Dumbledore needs us to keep her away from the teachers and students. No one knows she lives with us. Dotty!"

A younger female house elf stepped forward. "Find Missy Elodie some food and a bed."

The house elf led the silent girl towards the table and gave her some food. When she had eaten a little she pushed the plate away and no cajoling from the house elf could persuade her to eat more. Finally, they led her through the kitchen into a concealed door. Here she could see lots of bunkbeds with a whole host of house elves stretching from the youngest to the oldest. About a quarter of the beds were empty and she looked enquiringly up at Dotty.

"We don't all sleep at the same time Missy Elodie. There must always be house elves awake to serve Hogwarts." The girl nodded and relapsed into the same tired look.

Dotty led her through the room through a smaller door into what appeared to be an ex cupboard. There was a small bed covered in a bright yellow blanket. "Your bed Missy. Goodnight."

This elicited a small smile from the girl. She got into bed and despite her evident exhaustion not much sleep came to the young girl that night. She lay confused and anxious as the tears came rolling for she knew the old joyful life with Mama was gone and this new one only interspersed with drops of kindness amidst a great sea of disdain was her current reality.