"Excuse me, Professor?"

Remus looked around as he closed the door of his quarters. "Good morning, Harry," he said. "And good morning, Quirinus," he added as his colleague came around the corner behind Harry. "Did you both need something?"

"Oh, n-nothing urgent." Quirrell stepped back, twiddling the end of his turban between his fingers. "It c-can wait, if Potter has a q-q-question for you."

"I did, actually." Harry nodded thanks to the Defense professor, then faced Remus, a light in his eyes that brought certain escapades of Remus's younger days forcibly to mind. "I wanted to ask about those things we were discussing with Professor Freeman, the ones that look like teddy bears and live in forests. Is it true, even here, that they like to build traps?"

Firmly Remus reminded himself that he was a Hogwarts professor, and shouting with laughter or administering a large hug to one of his students would be deeply unprofessional of him, especially given the audience of this conversation. "Yes, that's right," he said instead. "The traps are often made with stones, if you remember. I'd advise you to stay clear of them, and your friends as well."

"That's what I thought. I just wanted to be sure." Harry nodded briskly. "Thank you, Professor."

"You're quite welcome, Harry." Remus frowned, noticing Harry's hand rising to his forehead. "Is something the matter?"

"Just a headache." Harry shrugged, rubbing his fingers across his scar briefly, then lowering his hand. "I get them sometimes."

"Well, see Madam Pomfrey if it hasn't passed off by lunchtime." Remus waited for Harry's acknowledging nod, then turned to Quirrell. "Thank you for waiting, Quirinus. Last week's essays, I take it?"

"Y-yes, that's right, and I w-wanted to check with you about the th-third years." Quirrell held out a small stack of scrolls to Remus. "Some of them d-don't seem to fully grasp the g-g-gravity of this subject…"

Tonks rapped her knuckles against the door at the address she'd found in the Ministry's files, hoping she wasn't about to deeply confuse a family of Muggles or mortally offend some random wizard or witch. She couldn't be certain if this was what Kingsley had meant when he'd handed her one of the items they'd discovered after the Death Eater attack and told her to "deal with this", but he was always talking about the need for an Auror to use initiative and creativity, so she didn't think he'd have any right to object.

If he ever finds out.

The door creaked open. "May I help you?" inquired the house's occupant.

"Wotcher, Professor." Tonks reminded herself that she was a grown witch, no longer this man's student, and doing him a favor, and held up the object in her hand. "Thought you might want this back."

"I see." Severus Snape eyed the Death Eater mask Tonks was holding as he might a potion with the consistency of overcooked oatmeal. "Your discretion is appreciated." Taking the mask from her, he drew his wand and Vanished it without fanfare. "I assume that closes the matter?"

"Far's I'm concerned, it does." Tonks was weighing the merits of making a remark about the weather and simply turning to leave when she heard pattering footsteps from inside the house.

"Pardon me a moment," said Snape, and stepped back, pushing the door mostly shut. "Well?" Tonks heard him inquire of the other person within. "Let's see it."

A rustle of parchment sounded beyond the door, followed by the soft mutters every Hogwarts student came to know as the Potions Master deeply engrossed in whatever he was reading to himself. "Yes," Snape murmured, "that looks good, yes, well enough—and what is this?" he demanded suddenly. "Cassandra may have chocolate whenever she pleases, and will never have a bedtime?"

"Aww," said a disappointed voice. "I was hoping you wouldn't get that far."

"I read everything I expect to sign my name to. So should you. Now, try again." The faint brushing sound of an Erasing Spell provided a backdrop to Snape's words. "Cassandra may have a reasonable amount of chocolate in the afternoons when her schoolwork is done. Bedtime will be observed, but is negotiable on Fridays."

Fascinated, Tonks craned her neck to see through the slit the door was open, making out the sheen of long dark hair, the shape of a slender face lifted fearlessly towards Snape. "Fridays and Saturdays," countered the person to whom these attributes belonged.

Snape frowned, considering this. "Very well," he said after a moment, and held out his hand. The girl met it with her own, and they shook on it. "Now, go and write it down."

"Cassie?" Tonks pushed the door a little further open, halting the girl in mid-flight. "Cassie, is that you?"

"Dora!" Cassie beamed and ran to her for a hug. "What are you doing here? Did you come to see me?"

"No, I didn't even know you were here." Tonks looked down at the child she'd known as a fosterling of her father's cousins, then across at Snape, and told her speculations that they could bloody well shut their face. "I found something Professor Snape dropped, so I thought I'd return it to him." She went to one knee, the better to be on a level with Cassie. "How're you holding up?" she asked quietly.

"I'm still sad sometimes." Cassie lowered her eyes, which had begun to gleam with tears. "A lot of the time, really. But Aunt Amelia wouldn't want me to be too sad about things." She turned her head towards Snape. "Not when I found my dad because of what happened."

Tonks's speculations crowed in triumph. She administered a mental smack and smiled at Cassie, though she had a suspicion the expression looked more than a little sickly. "That's awesome news, Cass. I'm happy for you."

"We were just deciding on basic rules for the household," Snape put in. "I return to Hogwarts on Monday, so it seemed best to have things settled before then."

"Oh!" Cassie hugged Tonks once more, than held up the scroll in her hand. "I have to go make that change," she said with a little giggle. "I'll send you an owl from Hogwarts, okay?"

"I'll be watching for it." Tonks got to her feet as the girl scampered away through the door at the back of the sitting room.

Snape coughed once, drawing Tonks's attention. "I believe you write to your young cousin Mal on occasion," he said. "Had you established a way to get your letters to him without arousing his father's suspicions, before he departed for Hogwarts?"

"We sorted that out years ago." Tonks eyed the Potions Master warily. "Why?"

"If you would be willing to forward on Cassie's letters by that same means, I would be grateful." Snape's expression never changed, but Tonks could have sworn she saw a tiny spark of amusement deep in his black eyes. "After all, a child should never be cut off from her mother."

"Er." Tonks carefully closed her mouth, aware that her hair had turned dead white but unable to control the reaction. "Sure. That'd be fine. Just send them along whenever. I've got to go, best of luck to you, and take good care of Cassie, she's a pretty special kid…"

"Indeed she is." Snape smiled, the expression softening the harsh lines of his face beyond anything Tonks had seen from him before. "Thank you."

Tonks stepped unsteadily down to street level as the door clicked shut behind her, and buried her face in her hands for a few moments, trying to get her composure back.

Aunt Narcissa. And Professor Snape.

"Train of thought headed for Bad Mental Images Station," she murmured shakily. "Now boarding at platform me…"

Meghan slipped down the hallway one of the house-elves had pointed out to her, keeping her ears open for any sounds of students coming this way, though she didn't really expect to hear anyone. Most people had better things to do on a Sunday afternoon than prowl around indoors at Hogwarts.

Unless they want to meet someone. A very particular someone.

Arriving at the correct door, she nerved herself up and knocked.

The door was pulled open from inside, revealing a dark-haired person of about her own size, blue eyes lighting up with happiness. "Meghan?" this person said breathlessly.

"That's me." Meghan grinned broadly. "Hi, Cassie."

Severus looked up from arranging his bedroom as the sound of gleeful squeals penetrated through the closed door. What in the world—ah, of course. Aletha's daughter. This mental nomenclature, or its equivalent, had often helped his dream-self to keep his composure when considering the identity of Cassie's closest friend. Just as well, really. I'll be busy much of the day, even with my workload reduced, and Cassandra shouldn't be alone.

Still, I'll be just as happy when the school year ends and we can leave here. He looked up and caught his own eye in the mirror, smiling sardonically. Though it would be amusing if, by the time we leave, Sirius Black's child has become attached to me…

"You're going away?" Meghan stared at her friend. "But that's not fair! We barely even found each other!"

"Dad wants to spend some special time with me, since we'll only have this one year between now and when I start at Hogwarts myself." Cassie swung her feet back and forth under the chair on which she was perched. "Don't worry, though. I'll write lots of letters. And you get to stay here at Hogwarts, and have your mum and your friends and cousins and everybody."

"That's true." Meghan brightened. "And then you'll come back and we'll be first years together, and get beds next to each other in the dorm so we can whisper after lights-out!" She sat down on the floor, looking up at Cassie. "I was really sorry to hear about your aunt," she said. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost my mom, even if I got my dad back because of it."

"Thanks." Cassie twisted her hands together, gazing at the window which was letting in soft late-winter light. "I feel kind of bad any time I don't feel bad," she confessed. "Because it's all mixed up together, the sad and the happy and the angry of it all, and I feel like maybe I ought to be more sad or more angry sometimes, but the happy keeps coming out on top, and it's so confusing!"

"Mom says feelings are always like that. Mixed-up and confusing." Meghan nodded sagely. "Moony—Professor Lupin, I guess I should probably call him, but he said I could say Moony if I wanted—he said so too, when I asked him. And your aunt loved you, right? Lots and lots and lots?" She smiled at Cassie's answering nod. "Then she'd be glad to hear that you're more happy than anything else. It doesn't mean you didn't love her, or you don't miss her."

"Thanks." Cassie slid off the chair and joined Meghan on the floor. "You're really good at understanding."

"Healers have to be. I figured I'd start early." Meghan laced her hands behind her head and stretched. "So, where do you want to go exploring first?"

"Afternoon, you lot," said Fred Weasley, appearing at the entrance of the courtyard where Harry and his friends were sitting around one of Hermione's blue fires, comparing the Muggle fairy tales Harry and Hermione had heard growing up, the Beedle the Bard stories Ron, Draco, and Neville were more familiar with, and the actual practice of magic as learned at Hogwarts. "Doing anything fun, or can we tempt you to come down to Quidditch practice?"

"Quidditch practice?" repeated Ron with a frown. "How come?"

"Wood's gone a bit mad lately, since we're in the lead for the Cup," said George over his twin's shoulder. "We're hoping if there's someone else watching, he'll let us off in time to have dinner."

"Besides, it'd only be polite if we offered to let you have a go on our brooms." Fred jiggled the Comet he was carrying over his shoulder. "Don't suppose any of you would care for that?"

"Not at all," said Draco with a straight face, putting away the scroll on which he'd been doodling and getting up, dislodging Orion in the process (the dog had been lying across his and Harry's feet, keeping them warm). "Absolutely hate it."

"Won't he object about us, though?" Neville gestured to himself, Draco, and Hermione. "We're not Gryffindors."

"You're also not on your House Quidditch teams," said George. "And I don't think even Wood's paranoid enough to believe the other captains are using first years as spies."

"Hmm." Fred pursed his lips. "He might believe it of Flint."

"That's because Flint might actually do it," George pointed out. "But we don't play Slytherin again until next year, so why would he?"

"To try and sabotage us so we'll lose to Ravenclaw and Slytherin can overtake us for the House Cup?"

"We'd be happy to come," said Harry before George could think up a reply for this. "Right now, or later?"

"Right now's good." George beckoned for the little group to fall in behind him. "You can see how a practice usually goes, since I'm sure some of you will want to try out next year, once you're eligible."

"Well, technically we're all eligible right now," said Hermione thoughtfully, dousing her blue fire with a flick of her wand and sliding the empty jar into her bag. "There's no rule against a first-year student being on a Quidditch team. It's just that they wouldn't do very well if they had to ride a school broom in a match."

"One of the only things my father's good for." Draco leaned down to disentangle a burr from Orion's left shoulder. "I'm practically guaranteed the best broom on the market if I so much as hint at wanting to play Quidditch next year. And Nimbus is coming out with a new model pretty soon, so that's probably what I'll be bringing to tryouts. How about you, Harry?"

"Depends on how things go this summer." Harry traded secret smiles with Hermione and Draco. "Maybe I can tell my aunt and uncle I need a special broom to do my chores at St. Brutus's, and then they'll agree I can get one."

"Why's it any of their business?" Ron kicked a pebble along the path. "Didn't you say they don't even realize you've got a Gringotts vault?"

"It'd be funny to get them to agree to it without knowing it's a broom for flying," said Neville, snagging Trevor mid-leap. "What do you think, Hermione?"

"I think we should wait and see what the rest of the year brings." Hermione ran her hand along Orion's back, and he tossed his head in her direction, panting an open-mouthed smile. "Professor Lupin was saying that they might add crosseball as an official student sport next year, since it's been so well received by the first years, so you'd want to think about that as well as Quidditch when you're looking into what broomstick to buy…"

"You're doing fine, Neville!" called Hermione from the ground as Neville tentatively guided Fred's Comet into the air, Draco flying wing on George's Cleansweep. "Remember, you are a leaf on the wind!"

"What does that mean?"

Harry stifled a laugh and turned to shake hands with the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood. "I hear you're pretty good on a broom, Potter," said Wood, looking him over. "Any idea what position you'd play, if you tried out for the team?"

"I might like to be a Seeker, I think. No offense," Harry added hastily to Rose McGann.

Rose laughed. "None taken," she said, shaking loose her long fall of brown hair from the knot she'd tied it into during practice. "It's good to have a reserve player or two."

"Preferably ones who know how to play the position," said Alicia Spinnet pointedly, staring at Wood, who flushed. "If we'd had an actual reserve Seeker last year, maybe we wouldn't have lost so badly to Slytherin when Weasley got himself hurt."

"Charlie had to take his entrance test for the dragon preserve two days before the final match," Fred explained to Harry. "One of the dragons knocked him over with a wing and concussed him, so Madam Pomfrey wouldn't clear him to fly."

"Alicia was our only reserve, so she had to step in as Seeker or we'd have forfeited, and the Slytherin Beaters took advantage," added George, scowling. "One of them was constantly targeting her, which meant one of us had to stay with her at all times."

"And that left the Chasers wide open." Wood seemed to be experiencing physical pain at the mere mention of the event. "Slytherin was up by eighty points even before Higgs got the Snitch."

"So why not watch Potter fly, Oliver?" Angelina Johnson grounded her broom beside them. "I can't see how it would hurt."

"He's got a good eye, at any rate." Katie Bell grinned at Harry. "How far was it you flung that crosseball, back at the beginning of the year? Hundred feet or so? And you still nailed Professor Quirrell right in the turban."

"That was you, wasn't it? I'd almost forgot." Wood regarded Harry with a mixture of awe and speculation. "Well, all right." He held out his hand and whistled, and his broom leapt off the ground into his palm. "Give it a go."

Accepting the broom from Wood, Harry swung his leg over it and kicked off, smiling at the smooth, easy action it showed in its ascent. Neville and Draco had returned to the ground while the team had been chatting with him, he noticed, and now Draco seemed to be asking Neville a question. Neville looked dubious, but nodded, and patted at his pockets for a moment before pulling out a small, round object and passing it across.

"Hoy, Harry!" Draco shouted, holding up something that flashed red in the late afternoon sunlight. "Think you can get it?"

Harry grinned, suddenly understanding perfectly. "Try me," he called back.

Draco leaned back and flung Neville's Remembrall high into the air.

Leaning forward and to one side, Harry accelerated swiftly towards the hurtling object, reaching out his hand. Closer—closer—

Cheers and whistles erupted from below as he held up his prize.

"Let me try, mate!" Ron held up his hands, and Harry circled back to drop the Remembrall to him. Ron looked back and forth, then hurled the Remembrall in a long, shallow arc, and Harry sped off to grab it before it could hit the ground.

"Once more!" called Hermione. Harry flew in low over her head and passed off the Remembrall, and she winked at Neville before throwing it almost straight up. Leaning back on Wood's broom, Harry ascended sharply and snagged the little sphere out of the air at the apex of its flight, then dived swiftly down and deposited the Remembrall in Neville's waiting hands.

"That was fun," he said, bringing the broom in for a landing next to Wood. "Thanks for the loan."

Wood was staring at Harry as though Harry himself were the Golden Snitch. "Merlin's twigs," he breathed. "You're a natural. But we're well past tryouts, and you're a first year in any case—"

"Quidditch captains can hold auxiliary tryouts at any point in the year, so long as their Head of House approves beforehand." Hermione glanced up at the castle, its soft gray stones highlighted with red and gold by the setting sun. "And Harry may be a first year, but that doesn't mean he can't play. It just means he can't have his own broomstick."

"And if he's a reserve, he'd be coming in for someone who wasn't flying that day," finished Ron. "So couldn't he borrow their broom instead?"

The smile on Wood's face could have illuminated the entire castle at midnight.

Aletha walked slowly around the dungeon classroom where her Friday morning class was in progress, keeping an eye out for any signs of trouble. Gryffindors and Slytherins were an uneasy mix at the best of times, and with Gryffindor still in the lead for both the House and Quidditch Cups, Slytherin was on the lookout for any potential edge they could grab to put themselves back in the running.

Though to be fair, they aren't pushing nearly as hard as they might be doing. Possibly that's because they can tell their Head of House has lost some of his single-mindedness about the subject…

An anomaly caught her eye. Nine flames were burning low and steady under nine cauldrons, but the tenth was flickering higher and brighter by the second. She flicked her wand into her hand and murmured a quick corrective charm, and the fire steadied down to a more suitable level for the potion currently being brewed.

That's odd. No part of this recipe calls for an adjustment of the fire, and I didn't see anyone cast a spell that might have changed it either.

Noting as she passed which cauldron had been subjected to the rising flames, Aletha frowned, and whisked her wand through another, more complicated spell, this one affecting herself rather than the world around her. Traces of a powdery substance glowed here and there on the floor when she'd finished, and she bent down to scoop some of it into a twist of parchment from her pocket.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" asked Harry, looking up from the unicorn tail hair he was weighing out.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Potter." Aletha shook her head, getting back to her feet. "Just a spilled ingredient that someone didn't bother to clean up…"

"Only that's not what it was at all." Aletha pushed the results of her diagnostic spell across the staffroom table so that Remus and Minerva McGonagall could both see them. "Call me crazy, but this looks like somebody ground up a Magical Fire Log."

"Which would certainly explain Harry's fire starting to burn hotter." Remus ran his finger down the list of components Aletha's spell had revealed. "What would have happened if his cauldron had overheated, with the potion you were brewing today?"

"We were working on one of the base brews for Pepper-Up Potion, to bring down the symptoms of a cold. If too much of it had vaporized, everyone breathing it would have started to exhibit those symptoms instead. Runny noses, coughing, sneezing, that sort of thing."

"Which, since it was induced by a potion, couldn't be cured by one. They would simply have to wait it out, as Muggles do." Minerva scowled at the parchment. "Severus was complaining to me before Christmas that Harry had a worrying lack of focus and couldn't admit to his mistakes, but I've never seen that in my classes. If anything, he's a bit too ready to take fault on himself."

"Agreed." Remus got to his feet, gazing out the window. "Then there was that incident last month, with the Slytherin girl who burned her hand on the next cauldron over from Harry's."

"And now this." Aletha tapped the parchment. "Three times makes a pattern, and not one I like…"

XxXxX

Henry followed his dad down the sidewalk, a bit confused. "I thought we were going to Devon for Easter vacation," he said. "Staying in Ottery St. Catchpole, so we could clear our heads and spend a little time with our friends before we start studying for finals."

"We are." Ryan beckoned his son to stand beside him. "Everybody else went straight there, and we'll join them in a little bit. This is just something I wanted us to do first." He motioned across the street. "Know where we are?"

Turning to look, Henry felt a strange hazy feeling fall over him. He'd never seen this place before, this street full of near-identical houses with neatly trimmed hedges and brass numbers on their doors, and yet at the same time, he'd seen it all his life…

A car pulled up to the house across the street and parked, and three people got out: a big, beefy man with a flourishing mustache on a flushed, self-satisfied face; a tall, thin woman with pursed lips and carefully styled blonde hair; and a boy about Henry's age, almost as broad as he was tall, wearing a maroon tail coat and orange knickerbockers.

Letting out a long breath of understanding, Henry leaned against his dad's side. "Thanks for stealing me," he murmured, and heard the familiar barking chuckle in reply. "Can we leave now?"

"I think so." Ryan nodded a casual greeting to Vernon and Petunia Dursley as they glanced in his direction, then took Henry's hand and started walking towards the corner, away from number four, Privet Drive. "Just wanted to drop on by, see how they were doing without you…"

Mal knocked on the door of the tall, cylindrical house, and smiled when it was answered by the person he'd been hoping for. "Mobile editing service," he said, holding out his corrected proofs of The Quibbler.

"Oh, thank you so much." Luna Lovegood giggled and accepted the parchments, then took Mal's hand and drew him inside. "Did you come by yourself, or is somebody with you?"

"My dad dropped me off. They want me back at the Burrow for dinner by six, and you're invited too, if you'd care to come." Mal followed Luna through the brightly-colored kitchen towards the stairs. "How have things been here? Same as ever?"

"Just about." Luna leaned over to unwind a stem of a Dirigible Plum plant which was attempting to loop itself around the kitchen windowsill. "My dreams have been very interesting, though. Haven't yours?"

"You don't know the half of it." Mal picked up a drawing pencil which had fallen to the floor and handed it to Luna, who tucked it behind her ear. "But you will pretty soon, if what my alter ego's planning works out…"

XxXxX

Draco stared at the fire in Malfoy Manor's kitchen, trying to find his nerve.

If I don't do it now, I never will.

Reaching up to the mantelpiece, he scooped up a generous pinch of Floo powder and tossed it into the flames, stepping inside when they roared up emerald green. "Pandora's Tower," he said clearly, and leaned into the spin of Floo travel as Tonks had taught him how to do, stepping out of a new grate only a few moments later.

The girl sitting at the kitchen table across from the fire looked up in interest. "Oh, hello," she said, getting to her feet and setting down the pencil she'd been drawing with. "I was wondering when you'd come." Pursing her lips, she tilted her head to one side. "I thought you said you looked different."

"I…do." Tentatively, Draco ran a hand across his head, making sure his Metamorphmagic hadn't given him his alterworld looks without his intention. "Don't I?"

"I suppose so." Luna reached up to brush the ashes out of his hair. "But no matter what you look like, you're still my friend Mal." She smiled brightly, and Draco felt a flutter in his chest, similar to those he'd been feeling all year, though this was stronger and more centralized. "It's so nice to finally meet you, outside of letters and dreams, I mean…"

Hagrid closed the door of the Hog's Head behind himself with care, then peered up and down the street, trying to remember which way would take him back to the school. He felt like singing, but decided to refrain, since holidays had ended the week before and the students shouldn't have to be subjected to his noise.

Doesn't stop me from being happy, though. Gently he patted his pocket, where the prize of the evening resided. Always wanted one of these, and now I've got one.

"Going my way?" asked a deep voice, as a broad-shouldered figure in a hooded cloak stopped beside him. "Up towards Hogwarts?"

"That's fer me," Hagrid confirmed, accepting the stranger's hand on his arm. "You sommat t' do with Hogwarts, then?"

"You could say that." The stranger huffed a brief laugh. "Lucky night for you?"

"Th' luckiest." Hagrid patted his pocket again. "Can't talk too much 'bout it, though."

"I understand." The stranger nodded. "What do you think about Hufflepuff's chances against Slytherin, then?"

Quidditch talk filled the rest of the walk up the path, through Hogwarts' gates, and to Hagrid's front door, where Fang greeted his master with a wildly wagging tail and the stranger with several puzzled sniffs. "Don' think he knows what ter make of yeh," said Hagrid unsteadily, swaying into the stranger's side briefly as he unlocked the door. "Well, this's where I get off. Thanks fer the help."

"Not at all." The stranger patted Hagrid's elbow, then stepped away, watching the groundskeeper enter his house with Fang beside him. "Not at all," he repeated softly, peering into the small satchel he was carrying against his hip. "Now, to find someone who can help me deal with this…"

Tonks startled awake from a muddled dream involving herself, her cousin, several of his friends, and a raucous game of pick-up Quidditch in the orchard near the Burrow. Someone was pounding a fist against her door.

"Hang on, I'm coming," she called, sliding out of bed and locating her dressing gown by feel. "Great Merlin, it's three in the morning," she grumbled to herself as she crossed her flat in the dark. "Who could possibly be—"

She opened the door, and froze at the sight of a wand tip in her face.

"Call yourself an Auror apprentice," said a deep, amused voice from within the hood of a long, black cloak. "If I were a Death Eater, you'd be dead."

(A/N: Who is that mysterious man, anyway? What was he doing with Hagrid, and why does he need to talk to Tonks? Astute readers might already have answers to some of these questions, but you'll all know soon enough.

Thanks for reading, as always, and please leave a response if you're able! It truly does help to keep me motivated and happy!)