December 28, 1980

2:45 P. M.

The rest of the meeting had gone very slowly, however that did not mean that it was boring. Quite the opposite, in fact. Mia had alternated between telling the Order about her years at school, and showing memories of specific events. It was infinitely harder watching the memories, but they understood that there were some things that were just too hard to describe accurately. Mia practically had to force a calming draught down her parents' throats after showing them Harry's memory of the Chamber of Secrets. It was one thing to hear that your twelve-year-old son fought a sixty-foot basilisk, but watching it was entirely different.

The Order had collectively decided to call it quits for the day after watching the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Many people were (quite understandably) shaken up, the Potter/Marauder group especially. Since she had been unconscious for the end of the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, she had ended up showing the Order Harry's memories of that night. At the start of the memory she had grabbed Sirius's hand, clutching it tightly, and she refused to let go for the rest of the memory. She had started to tear up during Sirius's and Bellatrix's battle, knowing what came next, as she had already seen the memory of it; and she hid her face in Sirius's shoulder when he fell through the veil. Sirius had been in shock at watching himself die, as had James, Remus, and Lily, and Mia had tried her hardest not to cry.

After the conclusion of the meeting, many people had lingered in the tent to socialize for a little while, and to try to distract themselves from the memories they had just seen. Mia, Lily, and the Marauders had commandeered two couches, and Harry had woken up. Other Order members milled about– the Longbottoms were talking to Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadowes, Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance seemed to be enjoying the company of the Prewett twins, and Dumbledore looked to have a death wish– if Mad-Eye's glare was anything to go by. Mia watched curiously as Dumbledore said something to Mad-Eye, causing Alastor to growl and storm off in Mia's direction, after throwing another dirty look at Dumbledore.

"I'm heading out, lass. Am I going to be incinerated if I apparate through the wards?"

"You can apparate out, but not back in, so make sure you have everything," replied Mia.

"Smart, lass," grunted Moody.

"I learned from you, sir– constant vigilance!"

With a final, firm nod, Mad-Eye apparated away. Intrigued as to what Dumbledore had said to Moody to cause him to storm out– not that Mad-Eye would need a reason to want to escape the presence of Dumbledore– Mia looked around the large tent to see where Dumbledore had gone, but she did not see him anywhere.

She knew he was still in the tent, as the wards let her know when people passed through them, and so far only Moody had left. She started to look around for and ripples in the surrounding area– the tell-tale sign of a disillusionment charm– but she ultimately didn't need to look, as a loud bang sounded, followed by a thud, and a pair of legs suddenly materialized on the ground next to her bedside cabinet, which was now glowing red.

Silence reigned over the tent and all attention was drawn to Mia as she hopped up from her seat and quickly made her way towards the disembodied legs. A clump of silvery material caught her notice, and, realizing what it was, she ripped the fabric off the floor to reveal a wincing Dumbledore. She scowled down at Dumbledore and aimed her wand at him, before facing the rest of the Order members (all of whom were now avidly watching the scene), without taking her eyes off him.

"Here's your cloak back, Dad," she said flatly, extending the invisibility cloak towards her father. James angrily stood up and took the cloak, before sending a scathing look to Dumbledore, who had yet to stand up from the floor.

"I agree to loan you my cloak, and you use it to attempt to break into my daughter's personal belongings?"

"I- '' Dumbledore said weakly, slowly sitting up and paleing at the sight of Mia's wand in his face.

"Don't even try to deny it," hissed James furiously. "Mia's bedside cabinet is glowing red, and not only do you not have a wand, but you were repelled away from it. It's quite obvious that Mia has it warded from intruders. Now. What were you doing, using my cloak, attempting to break into my daughter's bedside cabinet?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I thought I should take a look at the rest of the memories."

"So you decide to do so without Mia's knowledge or permission?"

"I merely thought that an adult should review the memories. She is just a child after all and information can be dangerous in the wrong hands. Additionally, it is quite clear that Miss Potter is still grieving over the untimely death of her brother, and therefore not in the right mind to make big decisions."

Before James could respond (though the furious look on his face made it clear that he definitely had a few choice words to say) Mia interrupted with a humorless laugh.

"Oh really, Albus, you want to talk about dead siblings? Fine. Let's talk about dead siblings." As Dumbledore paled, Mia met Aberforth's eyes across the room. "Forgive me," she mouthed. Aberforth nodded, minutely. Mia turned her eyes back to Dumbledore, and glared at him hatefully. She started to speak, steadfastly ignoring the rest of the Order as she did so.

"I fully acknowledge that my brother's death was my fault." James made to protest but Mia shook her head. "No, Dad. I understand that it was Harry's choice, but it's still my fault. The war had been over for a year," she explained to the Order, while keeping her harsh glare on Dumbledore. "We had all gone to Platform Nine and Three Quarters– Harry, the Weasleys, and I– we were seeing Gin off to her final year at Hogwarts. We– I– thought it was safe. All of Voldemort's inner circle members had been caught and prosecuted, and so had most of the higher ranking Death Eaters. There were only a few left who had yet to be apprehended, and of those few, most were lower ranking Death Eaters and Snatchers."

"Snatchers?" Asked Frank in confusion.

"They were essentially informal freelance bounty hunters who handed over muggleborns and blood-traitors to the Ministry for a cash reward during the war."

"You were being hunted?" Growled James angrily.

Mia scoffed. "I was Undesirable Number Two. Harry was Undesirable Number One." Mia took the angry silence that followed her admission as a sign to continue. "One of the newer recruits was polyjuiced and waiting for us at the platform. He was a talentless thing– only knew how to throw around killing curses. I never found out his name. He wasn't even an entity on the Ministry's wanted list. But he's the one that did it. Ironic, really." She laughed coldly, and brusquely wiped away a few tears.

"He shot the killing curse at me. I didn't see it coming. My brother pushed me out of the way." Although her conclusion was abrupt and emotionless, her next words were laced with venom and struck like daggers.

"I killed my brother, Albus, but at least I'm not the one who shot the damn curse."

Dumbledore's jaw dropped as all the blood drained from his face. At that moment, he looked older than Mia could ever remember.

"How– y-you can't possibly know… there were multiple spells… no way to know who– it wasn't me– I-I didn't…"

"Oh, but you did." Mia's voice was harsh and disgusted. "You avoided visiting your buddy Grindelwald in Nurmengard because you knew that he knew who's curse killed your sister. Voldemort had no such qualms about visiting. You've seen my brother's mental link to him. Grindelwald confirmed what you already knew. Grindelwald confirmed what you were too cowardly to confront. You killed your sister, Albus."

Gasps rang around the tent, but Mia paid them no mind. Rather, her attention was caught by Aberforth, who was shaking violently, a murderous expression painted across his face. Mia stepped out of his way as he stormed across the tent, hauled Dumbledore to his feet, and sent his fist flying into his brother's face. A loud crunch upon impact echoed the silent tent. Dumbledore stumbled back and cried out in pain as blood started to gush from his newly re-broken nose. Aberforth then turned to Mia, the rage in his face slowly disappearing behind an emotionless mask. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mia beat him to the punch.

"Mr. Dumbledore," she said, looking Aberforth in the eye. "I sincerely apologize for speaking so crassly of your sister." She was about to continue her apology, but Aberforth held up his hand, cutting her off.

"Miss Potter, your apology is accepted, but unneeded. I thank you for bringing this information to light, and I bear no ill will towards you and your family."

Mia nodded seriously, before quirking her mouth in a half-smile. "Please, call me Hermione. If you ever need anything, you need only ask." That the same did not apply to Dumbledore was left unspoken, but blatantly clear nonetheless.

"Thank you, Hermione." He said, before gruffly adding: "Call me Abe."

Mia smiled wider this time, and Abe nodded goodbye before taking his leave, roughly dragging Dumbledore behind him. Sighing, Mia looked around the tent, noting the looks of shock on the various faces of the Order members. Decidedly ignoring everyone else in the room, Mia strode over to the couch she had previously been occupying.

The second she sat down, Harry, who had been squirming next to her in his mother's lap, climbed over and on to Mia. As Mia's arms gently shot out to hold him in place, Harry made himself comfortable in his sister's lap, before reaching out to grasp one of Mia's curls with his tiny hands. The chatter in the tent slowly picked back up as everyone, following Mia's lead, went back to what they were doing.

Hours later found the Potter/Marauder group still in the tent, quietly talking amongst themselves, being sure to stray from any heavier topics for the time being. The majority of the Order had left, and the recent exit of Hestia Jones left them and the Prewett twins as the last ones in the tent.

Fabian and Gideon strolled up to where the Marauders, Lily, Hermione, and Harry were sitting, still on the couches. Harry was sitting in Hermione's lap, playing with his snitch, which had come out of Mia's bag at some point during the past few hours.

"Hey guys," the twins said, as they each pulled up a chair. Fred and George's twin-speak must have been inherited. The group returned their greetings, and Fabian and Gideon turned their attention to Hermione.

"So, Mia-"

Their sentence was quickly cut off as the twins abruptly jolted and let out noises of pain and surprise. Hermione started giggling, but before anyone could question her, Harry snapped his tiny head up to look at the twins, and leveled them with an adorable glare. In a stronger voice than one would have thought possible for such a young child, Harry said, "My My-My."

While the group was gaping, Mia's giggles turned to full on laughter. Gideon and Fabian tried to ask her what had just happened, but again, they only got as far as "Mia," before they jolted and Harry's glare hardened.

"My My-My!"

The group all looked to Hermione with questions in their eyes. After she had calmed her laughter enough to speak, she started to explain. In an effort to stop herself from laughing again, she kept her eyes away from Harry, who looked to be seriously considering throwing his snitch at the twins.

"That would be Harry's copyright in action."

"What do you mean? What did Harry copyright," asked James.

"Remember how I told you about the Triwizard Tournament?" At their nods, she continued. "Well, in addition to the tasks, the Yule Ball was held for all three schools. My date to the ball was Victor Krum, the Durmstrang Champion. Due to him being Bulgarian, he couldn't properly pronounce my name, and I spent a while trying to teach him. Harry overheard and suggested that I tell Victor to call me Mia. When I questioned him on it, he said:

'Mia, like Her-my-uh-nee.'

"Before I could respond, he told me, 'Actually, I think I quite like that. I'm calling you Mia from now on. But only I get to call you Mia, because you're my sister. You're my Mia. I should copyright that…' After that, he wished me luck with trying to get Victor to pronounce my name and went off to find Ron.

"From then on, he called me Mia, and whenever somebody else called me Mia, he would shoot a stinging hex at them, and proclaim that I was his Mia. The only people who were exempt from his hexes were Remus and Sirius, and that was because they were honorary Potters. Nobody else though, not even Ron, could call me Mia without repercussions.

"So, for Harry's birthday, I wrote out a copyright document and placed a variation of a Taboo on the word 'Mia,' so that when used in reference to me, if you were not a Potter or an Honorary Potter, the Taboo would give the speaker a small shock. It saved Harry from quite a few detentions, and he said that his copyright was one of the best gifts he ever received. I'm surprised it transferred over to this timeline, but judging on Harry's current reactions, I have a feeling that even if it hadn't transferred, I would probably have had to redo it anyway."

Mia's explanation was met with silence– though it was clear the group was trying very hard not to laugh. As he tried (and failed) to stifle his amused grin, James addressed his daughter.

"So Harry was just a little possessive then?"

Mia snorted. "What can I say? I'm his Mia."

Harry's definitive nod at the end of Mia's sentence was what finally caused the group to burst into laughter.

"It wasn't your fault."

James had woken to the sound of his son crying for his sister. After blindly feeling around for his glasses and putting them on (managing to do so without having poked his eyes, as he had done so many times in the past), he had checked the clock on the wall across from him and saw that it read one forty-eight in the morning. He got out of bed quickly after that, and headed to his son first, hoping that Harry's cries wouldn't wake Lily.

Having learned from the night before, he gathered his son in his arms and quietly opened the door to his daughter's bedroom opposite the nursery. Noting that she had once again put up some variation of a silencing charm, he resolved to find a more permanent way around it in the morning. He refused to let his daughter suffer in silence.

He had made his way over to Mia's bed, where he found her crying in her sleep, calling out for her brother in heartbreak. He knew what she was dreaming of– remembering. He had set Harry down on her bed, watching as he had immediately crawled over to wrap his little arms around his sister's neck.

James had run his hand gently through Mia's curls, pulling her from her dream. He had continued to do so even after she had woken, calming her as she cried into her pillows, until eventually she had no tears left to cry.

"It wasn't your fault," he repeated, having received no response from his daughter the first time. She looked away guiltily, but James would not concede until he got his daughter to understand that she was in no way responsible for her brother's death in her timeline.

"Mia. Look at me." He waited until she met his eyes to continue.

"It was not your fault, Angel."

"It was too quiet– the activity of the remaining Death Eaters. I should have known," she croaked miserably.

"There was no way you could have known. Death Eaters don't exactly give the DMLE their schedules, love."

"I should have been on my guard." She hiccupped.

"The war was over," refuted James, "you didn't need to be on your guard."

"I should have heard him casting the curse…"

"From across the crowded platform? Angel, even Moony's hearing wouldn't have been able to pick up on that."

"I should have seen the curse– reacted faster…"

"2.38 seconds."

"What?" She asked quietly.

"2.38 seconds. That's how long it takes for an Unforgivable to hit its target across the room. That was one of the first things we learned in auror training– 2.38 seconds. You couldn't have reacted faster if you didn't see the curse coming. Even if you had seen it coming, there's still a higher likelihood of the curse hitting its target. 2.38 seconds. You barely had time to react. It was not your fault."

"He shouldn't have pushed me out of the way." Her voice cracked. Her eyes once again welled with tears. James felt his heart break.

"But he did. And he'd do it again, too. Again, and again, and again. And so would I. And so would Lily, and Remus, and Sirius. We'd all do it, and we'd all do it again too. You are family, Mia Potter. Family is worth dying for. It was not your fault."

As tears started to fall down her face, James gathered his daughter in his arms, being mindful to not squash Harry between them.

"Shh, Angel," he comforted quietly. "It's alright now. You're safe. Harry is safe. It won't happen again. Breathe, love. It wasn't your fault."

Like the night before, he started to sing, watching as Mia's tears slowed and her eyelids gradually fell shut. Not wanting to disturb her, and not willing to let go of his daughter quite yet, James carefully adjusted his position to something more comfortable before looking back to his children, smiling at the sight of them both sleeping peacefully.

He sat there in the silence, watching over his children– protecting them, until he too could no longer resist falling back into the realm of sleep.