Yes, it's late again. I think I'm getting a bit better at writing though, ever so slowly. This piece will have shorter snippets - more coherent story will come as we start to focus on Hogwarts, which will be in the next chapter. This was bringing together a bunch of elements, including Blaise, and introducing some of Seamus' home life which isn't quite as rosy as he'd like to make people believe!

As always, rate and review! Thanks!


"And I truly believe that, with the efforts we have made, the peace process in Northern Ireland will continue on its path to success which we've already demonstrated it is on." A well-dressed, breathless man spoke from the television nestled into the corner of the house. Ten feet away a couch sagged under the weight of its occupant.

"Ah, it's a load of shite, 't's what it t'es."

"Watch your tongue!" A strong Irish voice carried from the kitchen. Shawn turned in the direction of his wife.

"When the tele's spewing out the crap it is, I have every right to call it what it is in my own house, woman! It's shite!" Shawn's wife stalked into the room brandishing her spoon.

"Shawn Patrick Finnegan don't you take that tone with me, or by God I swear I'll - "

"Ye'll what! Confund me with a wooden spoon?" Shawn looked at her figure and began to crack up. His wife tutted and went back to the kitchen.

"One of these days, Finnegan."

"Aye, you've threatened to curse me for the past twenty years, Moira, never done it yet! 'Ere, why not curse those English-loving bastards up at Stormont?" His wife cackled humourlessly.

"And what'll you do when I'm thrown into Azkaban? Have yer forgotten what happened to the Wizarding Nationalists of Eire? Besides, who'd transfigure you beer when we're broke?" Shawn grumbled, and turned his attention back to the television. Down the stairs, Seamus Finnegan plodded, looking fed up. He picked at a loose strand on his jumper and kept his head down as he walked between Shawn and the TV, hoping not to be noticed. Shawn had other plans.

"Oi, lad! What's crawled up your arse then?" Seamus mumbled before throwing himself down on a stool in the kitchen. "Oi Seamus, I asked yer a question!"

"Leave him be, Shawn. He'll just be nervous about going back to Hogwarts tomorrow." Shawn snorted in derision.

"Bet he can't wait to 'swan off to England' with all his English mates, can 'e? That the problem, Seamus? Missing yer English friends?" Shawn started to laugh. Seamus turned his head, his face flushed red.

"Not everything's about the English being terrible, Dad!"

"Oh, I see how it is!" Shawn had managed to climb his way out of the human-shaped rut in the sofa. "Don't appreciate the money your mam spends on your schooling, on keeping you fed when you're here? Or just want to be like your English mates in that English school?"

"It's in Scotland, Dad!"

"We raised you to be a good Irish lad, Seamus. Don't you forget that!" Shawn had advanced on Seamus, his voice booming. Seamus pushed forward defiantly.

"Look around you, Dad. No-one cares any more. The 'troubles' are almost gone, and its just warmongers like you keeping it bad for the rest of us! You think I like having to go through army checkpoints near the border? Does anyone? Let the past go, will yer!"

"Right! That's enough," Seamus' mother, Maggie, stepped in between them, notes in hand. "'Ere, Shawn, take this and head off down the pub. Keep yer noise out of trouble though! Don't want the landlord tellin' me you started a fight again." Shawn took the notes and looked angrily confused for a good couple seconds. Seamus felt himself being herded towards the fireplace which had begun to grow larger than the wall it sat against.

"Where are you goin' then?"

"Diagon Alley. Need to get a few things before school tomorrow." Shawn snorted accusingly.

"England! Right, yeah, give them our money. Goin' to that bloody English bank as well are your?" Seamus and his mother situated themselves in the fireplace.

"It's a goblin bank, Dad, I don't think they care about Irish independence one way or the other. DIAGON ALLEY!" In a flash of green light, they were gone. Shawn snorted, and picked up his own coat, mumbling about wizards and the English as he left the house.


Seamus and Moira arrived at the Leaky Cauldron unceremoniously, and stepped up to the bar. Moira sighed heavily, dropped her back on the floor and sat on the stool. Seamus sat right next to her.

"His runs his gob too much, mam." Seamus looked around; the pub was quiet today. A hag sat by the fireplace knitting what looked like a multi-armed scarf while an old man sat opposite, reading the paper and drinking from a glass that refilled itself with a 'ding.' Seamus' mother sighed and rolled her eyes at him, keeping her attention on Tom, attracting him over.

"Evenin', Moira, Master Seamus," Tom slithered out as he shuffled over towards them.

"Well, Tom. Give us a pint of O'Shafflan's, and the lad can have a shandy before it's off to school." Seamus groaned.

"Mam, I've had stronger than a shady!" Moira clipped him around the head.

"The only thing ye're 'llowed to drink at your age is a shandy, and be glad for it! And as for yer father.." Tom returned with the drinks, and Moira took a long glug of the stout, savouring it before continuing, "well, you wouldn't understand. Not your fault, mind, being stuck at Hogwarts all year round." Seamus took some of his own beer before looking at her curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"You-Know-Who isn't the only threat to our lives, Seamus." Seamus looked down at his beer, confused.

"You don't mean the 'Troubles?' That's mainly muggles, we can hold out against any of that mam!" At this Moira turned to face him directly.

"More and more wizards are pickin' sides. I reckon yer dad weren't totally jokin' when he suggested cursing the lot of 'em. Peace moves slowly, it does, and the hate runs deep. Even in our world. Not that yer father understands there's a difference."

Shawn Finnegan was a total muggle. Never even envious of their magic, he believed any problem could be solved with a pint and a fist. A point he often tried to prove after one too many at the local. Seamus and Moira were silent for a moment, drinking their beers in contemplation.

"Mam."

"What, lad?"

"Does Dad not like me going away to school?" Moira sighed again. Her mind was already praying to the Virgin Mary that Seamus would just get to school and forget about the 'Troubles,' let alone his own father's hatred of most things on the mainland of Britain.

"No, son. But it's not like Hogwarts has a school in Ireland, is it?" In one gulp, Moira downed her beer, taking a third of it in one go. "Right, finish that up, got shopping to do!"


The Hogwarts Express blew its whistle as it pulled into the station. Already, a myriad of students and families had arrived. Some had come through the barrier to platform nine-and-three-quarters, said tearful and heartfelt goodbyes, only to find themselves waiting for the train a half hour later, feeling incredibly awkward having already wish each other a safe year apart. Blaise had arrived, as he always did, alone. His uncle rarely traveled outside of his circles - his work and his home were his only comforts. His mother never left the house. He touched a hand to his over-robe, and felt the thick parchment beneath. His mother's secret messages to Dumbledore. Like any good Slytherin, he had already attempted to read it several times, and found himself failing at every turn. His mother was a clever witch indeed.

"Draw no attention to yourself. If you can, fade into the background. But do not be so invisible that people wonder at isolation. We play a deep and complex game of posture and manipulation, my son. Play well." His mother's last words to him still echoed in his ears. Barely aware, he looked around and noticed that the platform was slowly filling up. The doors to the train would open soon. Voices he recognized well began to drift closer.

"… a difficult position with the Ministry, so keep yourself clean."

"…Yes, mother."

"And please, darling, be discrete!" Blaise's ears perked up. Why was Draco's mother warning him to be discreet? He looked over, and saw Draco shrugging his mother's hand from his shoulder, and heading directly for him.

"Zabini." Blaise regarded him evenly, and blankly. They had never been very close, the simple bond as a Slytherin making them at least cordial.

"Malfoy." He turned away slowly, and looked directly at the train. Draco started at him, casting around his head for something to say.

"I heard you were visited by the Averys." Blaise raised an eyebrow, but did not turn. Draco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. "That you were, well - you know what I mean." At this Blaise turned his head sharply.

"Yes, Draco, I know what you mean, and you should remember where we are! And stop looking so nervous. You are acting guilty, and terribly un-Slytherin." Blaise snapped, slightly harsher than even he had intended. Draco immediately stiffened, his face reading haughty and proper. "There, that looks more like the Malfoy you should be seen as." Before Draco could respond, thick Irish accents wafted towards them.

"… not a long goodbye, I know I embarrass ye."

"Mam! You don't embarrass me." A melodic laugh rose from Seamus' mother.

"Of course I do, you're a teenager, lad! And don't you worry about your father. Your home will still be there, even if the Oranges take to their guns again."

"Yeah, well, if he weren't such a prat - ow!"

"Watch your tongue! He's your father. Now go on with yeh. I can see Weasleys over yonder." Blaise turned his head fractionally, searching out the tell-tale red hair that marked the Weasley tribe.

"Alright. See ya at Christmas!"

"See ya, luv." And with that, the conversation was over. Draco spoke first, the unfinished argument between them apparently forgotten.

"What do you make of all that then?" Blaise snorted. Was Draco really that blind to how the world outside of his manor house worked?

"Problems with his father, I suppose. People have them." Draco laughed himself; a cold sound without any emotion in it.

"That's what you get for having a muggle for a father. Mudbloods, what do they expect?" Blaise rolled his eyes mentally, not wanting to betray how he'd love to cut Draco's idiotic opinions and his smug little face down to nothing.

"I suppose you're right. Come along, we should board the train." Blaise headed forward, and Draco hesitate. He turned and looked questioningly.

"I, er. I should say goodbye to Mother. You know how she gets. And, er. Blaise."

"Yes, Draco?"

"Save a seat for me. I have important news for the others." Blaise cocked his head in question, but nodded his assent. No doubt his questions would be answered soon enough.


"Stop pushing!"

"I am not pushing you, Ron. You're moving at the speed of a turtle." Harry and Neville looked at each other and chuckled quietly to each other.

"This train's hardly big enough to move through!" Ron had grown at a lightning pace, and was still tripping over his newly enlarged feet.

"The train is fine. You've just had a growing charm backfire on you." Hermione's sarcasm was increasing as her irritation did, but Ron remained oblivious. He stopped, dead in his tracks, and turned to face her in astonishment.

"Really? Is that why I've been growing so fast?" At this point, Harry and Neville were leaning against the compact walls of the train corridor, shaking with silent but over-taking laughter. Hermione almost growled at him, her scowl looking permanently etched onto her face, and jabbed his chest with her wand.

"Move, Ronald Weasley, or you'll find out just how fast I can make you shrink instead." She waved her wand up and down his body, threatening various parts of it with a shrinking charm. Ron paled and turned, walking a little quicker, before tripping over his bag and falling face flat into it.

"Ow."


Molly Weasley stood at the platform and watched it depart. As always happened, tears formed in her eyes and she moved quickly to collect herself with handkerchiefs and sniffles. They were all growing up, but they were still her babies - even the ones that weren't her blood, like Harry and Hermione. Tonks stood next to her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

"You'll see them at Christmas! It's not far away." Molly turned and gave Tonks a warm smile.

"No, I suppose not. I just want to be able to protect them." Tonks, uncharacteristically, gave a wry smile in return and spoke quietly.

"But you can't protect them forever. Not all the time. They'll be grown adults soon, and they'll have their own to protect." Molly looked away, but said nothing. The platform began to clear, and Tonks and Molly began to make their way to the exit. As they turned, across the platform, Molly spotted Narcissa Malfoy standing - poised, prim, with handbag clutched and her face in stone. The two made eye contact, and froze on the spot for what seemed to Tonks like a long minute, but was probably just about ten seconds. Abruptly Molly took her wand and held it - not out towards Malfoy, but across her chest, in a pose that implied a duel was about to begin. Narcissa stared back at her action, her face betraying no reaction. Slowly, she took her own wand, and held it in the same position. Tonks looked like she wanted to step between them, but something stopped her. And, just like that, the two women nodded and put their wands away, both heading for separate exits, but never quite taking their eyes off the other, like one might curse the other in the back before they had a chance to respond.

Outside the platform, Molly looked a little shaken, but determined. Tonks, on the other hand, was looking at Molly with a mixture of confusion and fear.

"Molly?" Tonks proffered hesitantly.

"Yes, Tonks?"

"What was that about?"

Molly said nothing for a moment, hesitating as she collected herself. She then turned steel eyes to Tonks.

"A debt that one of us will pay dearly for, one day." Molly sighed, her expression slowly returning to the smothering, caring mother that everyone knew Molly to be. "Well, come along. Dinner won't prepare itself!" And Tonks followed, dutifully, mulling over the whole exchange in her mind.


Scrimgeour was not a man to be trifled with. Hard as nails, in fact. And he didn't suffer nonsense. One thing the muggle Prime MInister had been glad about when Scrimgeour replaced Fudge was that, unlike Fudge, Scrimgeour didn't talk down to him. Not that the things he said provided any comfort at all. Perhaps Fudge had been a better choice for the Muggle PM after all.

And so, when Mafalda Hopkirk called the minister to the Halls of Prophecy, with two Unspeakables standing still and, well, not speaking, he found himself staring at a prophecy ball with no name, sitting to another prophecy ball with no name that had already been fulfilled. And he didn't understand why anyone had bothered him with this.

"Ms. Hopkirk, do I look like a Seer?" Mafalda looked a little taken aback.

"No, Minister!"

"A centaur? Some creature with divine inspiration, or knowledge of the deep, arcane arts of prophecy?"

"No, Minister, but I just thought - " Mafalda was cut off by Scrimgeour's likeness to a lion showing itself to be more than just in the hair.

"Then why for Merlin's sake would you bring me here to tell me about a prophecy that has no name! What do I care it has no name? So what!"

"Minister, you don't seem to understand that - "

"Ms. Hopkirk, we are in a war! A civil war against invisible terrorists, who might end up winning if we aren't careful! I don't know all of what goes on around here - " he gestured vaguely around the room as if it encompassed the whole of the Department of Mysteries - "but I know that there is a reason that I am Minister, and not an Unspeakable! This is your job, and their job. Sort it out, and when you have information that I can actually -use- in this war, then you come tell me. Understood?"

"Yes, MInister.." Mafalda thought perhaps she should apologize, but the Minister was already stalking off.

"So, now what?" Bode tentatively asked, making Mafalda take her glasses off and rub her eyes. She'd been taking far too much overtime. A good night's sleep would help.

"Nothing. Let's leave it, for now. Just.. don't touch it."

She left unsaid that the contents of the prophecy frightened her, and she wasn't even sure why.


As above, rate and review! Hogwarts next chapter!