He remembered the last time he had seen her alive; at the house, holding the baby in her arms. He told her he was going to be gone for only a day. Just a routine job, nothing more. How wrong he was. How was he to know that it was a trap, that ten Death Eaters were waiting for him. How was he to know that it was only a lure to draw him away from those he loved. If he had only known, he would have stayed home. He would have fought, and died, protecting his family. But no, he had been a fool. Now his wife was dead, his daughter gone. If only he had known.

Harry dressed hurriedly the next morning. He and Ron rushed down to the Great Hall, anxious to see the results of the tryouts. He and Ron exchanged theories about the tryouts as they went.

"Do you think Neville made it?" Ron asked.

"Probably," Harry said. "After all, he did about average on everything."

"What about Seamus? He didn't do so well."

"Yeah, I'm not sure about him. Who knows though. I have no clue how they'd have graded it."

When they reached the Hall, they saw that there was a sizeable crowd already there. Students were discussing the tryouts and results all over the Hall. Neville greeted them as they approached the crowd. His face was beaming.

"I can't believe it Harry!" he shouted. "I got in! I made it into the Third-Level." Neville looked close to bursting with joy.

"Um, great. Good job." Harry shook his hand and squeezed by into the crowd. The results from the tryout were split into four parts. Each part was labeled as a level, one through four, and each had about twenty names in it. Harry found Ron and his names under Third-Level, same as Neville's. He scanned the paper for other names and paused when he saw Hermione's. How could she have made it? She was not at the tryouts.

Harry edged his way out of the crowd and found Ron, who had already taken his seat at the table. Harry sat down beside him and glanced around. Hermione was not in the Hall yet, so turned to Ron.

"Ron, did you notice anything unusual about the results sheet?"

Ron looked up from a mouthful of toast and shook his head. "No. It looked fine to me. Why do you ask?"

Harry checked to make sure no one was listening and leaned in closer. "Hermione made it in."

It took Ron a moment to realize what he had said. His eyes opened wide and for a moment Harry thought that he would choke on his toast.

"She what? How could Hermione make-"

"Make what?" Hermione appeared beside them, her massive tote bag slung over her shoulder and a book in her hands. "What can I make?"

"Nothing." Harry grabbed a piece of chicken. "Just commenting on the results from last night."

"I know," Hermione said, not looking up from her book. "Pretty exciting, huh."

"You know, for someone who got in without even coming to the tryouts, you sure don't sound enthusiastic about getting in." Neville spoke before Harry could stop him. Seeing Harry's warning look too late, he snapped his mouth shut. Harry heard a muffled 'oops.'

If Hermione had heard the remark, she chose to ignore it. For the rest of the meal she kept her nose buried in her book. Only when breakfast was over did she put it down, and then only to pick her tote bag up again. Harry gave Ron a shrug as they followed her to class. Ever since the year had begun, she had been acting strange. Harry decided to go ask Vandermine about it after class.

It wasn't until early in the afternoon that Harry had enough time to go see Vandermine. He left Ron at the Gryffindor dorm entrance and hurried down the hall. He had Quidditch practice in less than an hour, and he wanted to get some work done before then.

There was no answer when Harry knocked, so he let himself in.

"Vandermine." The room was empty. Harry looked around curiously. The room had changed. The racks of weapons and magical artifacts had been removed. Instead, the walls were covered in clippings from newspapers. Most came from the Wizard papers, but a fair handful were from Muggle papers. Harry looked closer and saw that they all involved the death of someone or something. Several of the names were familiar, all former Death Eaters or dark creatures. There were deaths by curses, strangling, stabbing, and a dozen other ways. It did not take Harry long to realize that these were all from operations carried out by Vandermine and his squad.

Harry moved along the wall, studying the different stories. He recognized some from the stories Ron had told him. Here was a story about when Vandermine dueled with the German wizard Johannes Outrider, and won. Outrider was an ancient werewolf, kept alive by dark magic. At the time of his death, he had grown to the size of a small car and was permanently transformed into his were-form. Vandermine had taken him down single handedly, much to the dismay of the Ministry, who had sent him. They had sent him in an effort to get rid of him, but he had come through unscathed, supposedly. Ever since that fight he had begun acting strange, and there were rumors that he had been bitten by Outrider.

The story clippings continued all the way to Vandermine's desk. Harry traced a pattern on the desk idly while he read a clipping about a minor giant insurrection in northern Scotland. He froze when his fingers knocked over a solid wooden frame. He turned to face the desk, and saw a picture lying flat on its face. Carefully, he picked it up and turned it to inspect it for cracks. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the inhabitants of the picture.

One of the most gorgeous woman Harry had ever seen was smiling at him from in the picture. In her arms was a tiny little baby, barely a month old. The baby was sleeping quietly in the woman's arms, oblivious to the people and noises around it. Harry examines the picture slowly, looking at the woman. She was beautiful, with thick brown hair that rested in curls around her shoulders. Her face was soft and bright, making Harry's face flush in spite of himself. She looked familiar, especially the hair. He racked his brain hard, thinking of where he had seen her before. He could almost place it-

Something fell to the ground with a crash behind him. Harry jumped, spinning around and looking for what fell over.

Vandermine stood in the doorway, accompanied by Kathryn Stringer. His eyes flicked from Harry to the picture he was holding, and then back to Harry. Without a word he strode across the room and snatched it out of Harry's hand. He placed it on the desk and faced Harry, his face twisted in a furious snarl.

"Get out."

Harry's eyes widened at the intensity of his gaze and he took a step backwards.

"Sorry, sir." He mumbled. "I was just-"

"Get out." Vandermine was starting to shake with anger. As Harry walked to the door, he looked over his shoulder, apologizing the whole way.

"I didn't mean to… I accidentally-"

"Get out!" Vandermine shouted at him. The anger in his voice made Harry's skin crawl. He turned away from Vandermine and ran for the door. He paused at the doorway for a moment and turned back to Vandermine, trying to apologize one last time. A vase soared past his head, missing by inches and shattering by his ear. He jumped and dove out the door, terrified by the close call.

As he shut the door he heard Kathryn Stringer pleading with Vandermine to calm down, and Vandermine was shouting at her too. Words were being tossed back and forth that Harry had never heard before, but, by the sound of them, they were all variants of cursing. Harry had just made it ten feet down the hall when the door flew open and Kathryn Stringer burst out of the room. Harry stopped in shock when he saw the tears running down her cheeks. Seeing him, she turned abruptly and hurried off down the other direction, sobbing into her hands. Vandermine came out the door just as she rounded the corner. Harry ducked behind a statue and reached for his Invisibility Cloak. To his dismay, he remembered that it was still sitting in his dorm room.

"Kathryn, wait. I'm sorry." Vandermine looked down both hallways and swore. Shaking his head, he stormed back into the room and slammed the door behind him. Harry inhaled sharply at the impact, he felt it from his hiding spot ten feet away.

The door to Vandermine's office had bounced open. Against his better judgment, Harry found himself creeping back to the door. He stopped just beside it and leaned as close as he dared, straining to hear what was going on inside. Not a sound came from the room. Harry leaned further towards the door to see what was happening inside.

Vandermine was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. The picture that Harry had found was lying on the floor face up in front of him. Harry could tell that Vandermine was arguing with himself. Vandermine rocked back and forth in the chair, his eyes never leaving the picture the whole time. Harry risked moving a bit closer to hear him.

"…what am I supposed to do? I can't tell her, I just can't. She'd never believe me." Vandermine rose suddenly and shook his head.

"But what if she would accept me? I might not have another chance to…" he paused and threw his hands up in the air. With a frustrated groan he flopped back in the seat. "Who am I kidding. She'd never understand. It's better that she doesn't know." His voice quieted and he reached down for the picture.

"I need you, Amy."

Harry almost put a foot into the room when Vandermine's head jerked up. With a jolt Harry threw himself backwards away from the door. He landed on his back with a thud and scrambled to his feet in a panic. Certain that Vandermine was coming out to see who had been spying on him, he raced down the hall. He barely slowed down when he reached the Pink Lady, shouting the password as soon as he entered her hearing range, Harry rushed through the door and dove inside.

He got to his feet to see Hermione and Ron staring openmouthed at him, stunned by his entrance. Smiling weakly, he gasped for air and pointed to the chairs.

"I need a seat."

Hermione summoned a chair with her wand and Harry fell into it, welcoming the chance to rest. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself.

"Harry-" Ron began, but Harry cut him off with an upraised hand.

"Wait, Ron. I'll tell you in a second." He took a few more deep breaths and felt his heart returning to its normal pace. "I went to Vandermine's office."

"What did he do?" Hermione leaned forward, a frown on her face. "Did he-"

"Hold it, let me finish." Hermione sat back in the chair looking slightly affronted, but she nodded. Harry looked at Ron meaningfully and continued, "He wasn't in, so I let myself in. I was looking at some of the stories of his missions, they are on the walls now, when I knocked over a picture on his desk. So I picked the picture up and looked at it, and next thing I knew Vandermine came flying into the room and started shouting at me to leave. He was really mad and Kathryn Stringer was with him," he leaned forward and whispered, "She tried to calm him and he started yelling at her. She left the room in tears."

Ron's eyebrows shot up and Hermione's frown deepened. Although Hermione said nothing, Harry could tell that she was mulling over the information in her head.

Harry opened his mouth to speak when she uttered a single word.

"Scum."

"What?" Ron looked at her blankly. "Where?" he started to look around, genuinely confused.

Hermione glared at Ron. "I mean him, idiot. You're 'precious hero.'"

Ron started to protest, but Harry cut him off. "Ron, shut it." Ron scowled, but shut his mouth. He was staring daggers at Hermione, which she returned, her eyes icy cold.

Harry cleared his throat to get their attention. They broke eye contact just long enough for Harry to seize the initiative and continue the story. "After she had run out, I snuck back to the edge of the door, it was still open."

"Smart, Harry, real smart."

Harry ignored the comment and kept talking, determined to keep Hermione and Ron from fighting. "He was staring at the picture and arguing with himself. Said something about, 'telling her' something."

Hermione snarled slightly, making Harry and Ron jump in surprise. She sank lower in her chair, her eyes staring fixedly at the floor. Harry suddenly felt tired, like he had just sprinted a mile, and relaxed his body, allowing it to rest limp on the chair.

"What do you think it was all about?" Ron asked him. "Sounds to me like you really made him mad."

"Really? I never could have guessed that. It's a good thing we've got someone as smart as you helping." Ron's ears turned red and he rose out of his seat, but Harry grabbed his arm. Silently, Harry cast a pleading look at Ron, who nodded reluctantly and sat back down, still glaring at Hermione. Hermione huffed and rested her head on the back of the chair. "What was in the picture, Harry?"

"I don't remember." Harry replied. "But it sure must have been important. I've never seen anyone that mad before, including Dumbledore."

Ron cast a scathing look at Hermione, who was staring at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused, and shrugged. "Are you sure you don't remember?"

The image of the tall, beautiful brunette returned to Harry's mind. He inhaled sharply as he thought about it. "It was a picture of a woman and a baby. She was about your height, had long brown hair with curls in it and…"

Hermione looked back so suddenly that Harry stopped mid-sentence. She had a curious gleam in her eye. "Was that the picture near the head of his desk, right by the wall?"

Harry nodded dumbly, confused by her sudden interest. "Yeah, how did you know?"

Hermione bowed her head forward and sighed, her elbows on her knees. Harry and Ron leaned in to hear her.

"Now I know why he was mad. That picture, that's his wife."