Four Years Later

It had been four years since Lord Voldemort and his follower, the Death Eater Potter, had disappeared.

Morgan was seven now, it was Summer, and she was happy. She vaguely remembered some of the other Death Eaters, Uncle Lucy and Auntie Bella, but they weren't very important to her life, right now.

She was hailed as a prodigy in school. Of course, she still had a lot to learn, but a lot more just came natural to her.

Maths for instance.

She'd skipped three years worth of school, and still was mostly self-taught. Of course, she'd had a five-year head start. She could skip some more, but she didn't really want to.

After all, she didn't want to look too out of place, and she'd take her exams soon enough, anyway. She was years beyond most of her year-mates, even more than the five years she'd theoretically should be ahead of them.

Well, her Grampa was a teacher, and the best there was. Everyone at Whinging's primary liked him. He was fun, good-natured, and yet managed to have just the right dose of strict. He taught her, too.

And her dad, he was "just another guy", a stay-at-home dad, mostly. They had enough money, anyway, and Morgan knew where it came from. She knew the whole story, of the war, and of fighting, and even of the horcruxes. Her Grandpa had been rather upset when he learnt about what had happened to them, but his regret had destroyed them anyway, so it was fine.

She didn't care for the atrocities both of them had committed, the demons in their past.

Why should she? They were family, and they weren't doing anything of the sort now. They'd paid their share, in nightmares she had to calm both of them down from.

She was skipping home, hoping to get her cla- er, hands on some paper as soon as possible.

She wanted to calculate the area of one of the school roof's sides, an isosceles triangle. Her Dad had given her it's height and base. That would be more than enough.

John Smith was rather proud of his newest addition to his teaching staff. Thomas Evans was a pleasant man, a good teacher, and he knew how to talk to the kids. His son-in-law was a nice guy, if fairly young, and his granddaughter, well, the girl was absolute adorable and clever enough that she actually didn't quite belong into his school. Still, he was proud she went there, so if someone ever mentioned her name - and he had the fair feeling it would be mentioned, a lot, in the future - he could say that she went to his primary.

Only an idiot would not have guessed how proud he was of Whinging's most talented student.

Mister Evans was one of Mike's favourite teachers of all times.

It was just his bad luck he wouldn't have him anymore come September. Mister Evans was cool, way too cool to be a teacher, Mike sometimes

thought. He'd fought, in a real war, and he had once shown the class that he could still fire a gun. He was a really good shot, Mike thought.

And he could spot any pranks from miles away. He'd tried the trick with the pin on the chair in their first lesson.

Mister Evans had immediately spotted it, picked it up, looked through them carefully and then - he'd flashed a smirk at Mike.

He'd asked him to stay after class.

"Here, I believe this is yours, Mister Roberts."

"Uh, yes, sir."

He had watched him wriggle for a few seconds, then, he'd apparently decided to be merciful.

"I believe it would be best if nothing of the sort happened again, wouldn't it?"

Mister Evans' smile sent shivers down his spine.

"Yes, Mr. Evans."

"By the way, I take it you have heard the news of Mrs. White during recess?"

Everyone had heard the news of Mrs. White. She'd dressed down a young student, Morgan Potter, during gym, because she couldn't keep up with class. Everyone knew Morgan Potter, resident school genuis. She was only six and had already been put into year four, still shaping up to be the best student in her class except in gym.

And Mrs. White had insulted her into tears, from everything through her parents' and grandparents' origin to her academic prowess.

It hadn't been fair, Mike thought. Morgan was a decent sort, and she tended to help anyone who asked for it. She was a bit of a teacher's pet, mainly by virtue of being too charming to resist. You couldn't really be mad at her, because she'd flash that brilliant smile or give you a puppy-dog-look and you immediately nearly toppled over. But she never betrayed anyone who played pranks, which was most important to Mike. She'd helped him out several times during the last year, hiding him when he was on the run after a prank gone awry, either from Mrs. White or another teacher. There had been that prank with the blue paint - washable, of course, Mike wasn't heartless - and Mrs. White had been hot on his toes, not quite knowing who she was pursuing, as he always went around the first corner before she came after him.

He'd run into Morgan, and she'd pushed him into a cabinet.

When Mrs. White asked where "the criminal" went, she told her "He ran right, Ma'am."

Since then, he'd had a bit of a soft spot for the girl.

"Yes, sir."

"You are quite aware, I hope, of Mrs. White's hatred for anything spicy."

It was news to him.

Mr. Evans shoved a flask into his hand. It was labeled "Chili powder".

"It would be a right shame if any of this went into Mrs. White's food."

He couldn't believe him. Was his teacher encouraging him to play pranks?

"She always eats from the plate with the green floral design."

"Why are you doing this, sir?"

"Me? I'm not doing anything at all."

His expression was one of almost comical innocence.

"If you should see my granddaughter, give her my regards, please."

"Your granddaughter?"

"Morgan."

Then, it had all been clear to Mike.

He'd smiled at his teacher, a mischievous smile that would have most teacher put him into detention.

"I will. Thank you, sir."

"What for?"

His teacher smiled right back, an almost-copy of his own.

That was the moment that Mike had decided that Mr. Evans was his favourite teacher ever.

When he turned to go, Mr. Evans called after him.

"I'll spot any pranks in my class, got that?"

"Got it!"

He had successfully pulled off the prank, and Morgan had given him this bright smile of hers the next day.

He'd tried another prank on Mr. Evans, of course.

It was the classical bucket of water, connected throug a complicated apparatus of string to turn over as soon as someone was under it.

Mr. Evans, of course, didn't even look at the ceiling, he walked right beside it, and then, had him come out to this exact spot.

Mike was soaking wet afterwards.

"Mr. Roberts, are you alright?"

It was the most perfectly innocent smile Mike had ever seen.

That moment, he was close to worshiping the ground Mr. Evans walked on. Instead, he laughed, until his ribs hurt.

Mr. Evans helped him up, and sent him out to change into something dry.

It was Mr. Evans' ability to turn any prank around that was ever played on him that made Mike respect him.

Of course, he'd also liked class. Mr. Evans had a gift for teaching. He could explain everything, always speaking slowly, but not as if you would talk to an idiot, but slowly, and clearly, with a pronounciation that made one listen and understand and remember what he said. Mike didn't know how he did it, but everyone listened to Mr. Evans. He could also threaten bullies into submission with just a glare. No one picked on any member of Mr. Evans' class, or they'd regret it. There had been some mysterious pranks on the bullies. He could always see Morgan and Mr. Evans smirking at each other when that happened.

He really regretted he wouldn't have Mr. Evans anymore come September.

Harry didn't like making shopping trips to London, but it was necessary, sometimes, just to get out of Surrey. He still didn't like the fact he was living so close to his relatives, but, well, this place was familiar enough, at least, without anyone recognizing him.

He entered a small alleyway, determined to take a shortcut.

Then, he hear a whizzling noise, very quiet.

He couldn't even turn around before he collapsed, Stupefied.

Ginny Weasley didn't know why she'd been roped by her sister-in-law to go shopping in the Muggle world for the first time.

She had resisted, she'd bawled, but Hermione hadn't relented one bit, so Ginny had joined her in her fashion escapedes.

It had turned out to be excrutiatingly difficult, navigating in the Muggle world without getting spotted, and Hermione had had the gall to laugh whenever she made one mistake too much.

Still, it was fun, their dresses looked just... gorgeous, and there was so much more variety in their world that she couldn't believe it, sometimes.

Computers were pure awesome, for instance. Especially computer games. She'd gotten Colin to ward her one against magic, then, she'd gotten some disks, and now, she was hooked on playing.

She was on her way to one of those dress shops whose names she could never quite remember, when she spotted a mop of tousled black hair in the crowd.

It looked like Harry.

On a whim, she decided to follow the man on his shopping trip.

Her feet hurt, soon, this guy was fast, he knew where he was going, and she didn't exactly think his trip would take that long.

Then, she saw his face, for just a second, while he was staring at some advertisment or something like that..

It really was Harry.

She followed him. Why was he here? What had happened? What should she do?

Especially what should she do.

Should she go to Dumbledore, say she'd seen Harry? They'd laugh at her, for having fantasies or some such nonsense.

Should she try to get him before Dumbledore? What if he didn't want to go?

In this moment, he entered a deserted alleyway.

People didn't see him.

She sneaked in after him.

What should she do? She wanted to give the decision to someone, anyone else.

She Stupefied him.

Dumbledore would know what to do. She hoped.

And she also hoped she hadn't just gotten Harry killed or something.

Thomas and Morgan grew exceedingly worried as time passed, and Harry didn't come home.

Tom was worried for the man he'd come to regard as a surrogate son, a part of his family, the first he'd ever had, while Morgan worried for her Dad.

Both of them hoped sincerely they hadn't been spotted.

They wouldn't know what to do in that case.

All of what they'd achieved these past years, it would crumble down, if they were discovered. They'd have to flee, without Harry, and Thomas didn't know if he could look himself in the mirror if they did that.

Still, he and Harry had talked, and he knew what he'd have to do.

While Harry was still absent, the court had already decided his punishment for being a Death Eater, if only for a few years.

They'd decided not to chuck him into prison, but to place him on observed probation for a year, given that he was the most likely candidate for the reason behind Voldemort's disappearence.

Observed probation meant spending one year working under a member of the Wizengamot.

One such member included Albus Dumbledore, still Hogwarts' Headmaster.

Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange were sitting in a cave, still free, even though they didn't know how long they'd stay that way.

Since Bella's disappearance, they hadn't had a single idea on what to do.

They wanted revenge, on everyone, and information.

They wanted their Lord back.