A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "The Lawyers Against the Cup" by Tangerine-Alert. Harry didn't enter himself into the Triwizard Tournament, so there has to be a way out, right? Dumbledore and the other adults at Hogwarts offer him no solutions, so he leaves school and seeks help from the Dark Side: lawyers.

Chapter 34 - You've Got a Friend in Me

Monday, January 3, 1996, Morning.

Neville and Ginny hugged for a long time after he stepped through the front door of Grimmauld Place. "I missed you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't come visit you more often."

"That's OK," she whispered back. "I know your gran has expectations for you over the holidays."

"So how come you're here?" he asked. "Why not at the Burrow, as usual? Jasmine apparently had a hard time convincing the Headmaster to let me in on the secret of this place."

"My family moved in here last night. Well, moved back in here — we stayed here for much of the summer, too. The Burrow is safer now that Bill has added a lot of protections, but Mum wasn't doing well at home. Professor Lupin thought that she might start recovering a bit better here, where there isn't so much to remind her... well, you know. We'll have to see how it goes."

"It's also more private," Jasmine added as she stepped up to the couple. "There are... things you two need to know. And we wanted to let Ron in on the secret you already know."

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked with a frown. "I know you haven't wanted to..."

Jasmine shrugged. "No, I'm not sure, frankly. His jealousy and propensity to open his mouth without thinking first is still a problem. However, he is a friend. And he was once our best friend. We have to be willing to trust him at some point, otherwise the friendship is meaningless."

"What about all the others?" Neville asked. "You know, the study group?"

"They're next," Jasmine answered. "But we wanted to start with Ron, given our long friendship with him. We want you two there, partly to help if he reacts badly, and partly because there's more that we have to tell you as well. It's a lot, and it will be a bit hard on him getting so much all at once, but it's all important."

Both Neville and Ginny nodded in understanding. "We'll do what we can to keep him calm," Neville assured her.

"Thanks," Jasmine responded. "He and Hermione are upstairs. Let's go join them."

Ron stared, open-mouthed, his gaze moving back and forth between the two witches.

"You... you two?" he said, sounding completely confused. "Together? I mean... how does that even work?"

"I don't think that's entirely your business, Ronald," Hermione said in a tone halfway between annoyance and amusement. Ron's ears went red when it dawned on him exactly what he had just asked.

"You're probably wondering why we didn't tell you sooner, especially since it must be obvious that Neville and Ginny already knew," Jasmine said, watching Ron scowl and his ears go even redder. "Well, that question is part of the reason: you have a habit of saying things before you think, and we've been worried that you might accidentally say something which reveals this secret to the world." Now Ron's eyes went wide and he lost his scowl.

"Neville had to be told so I could have a date to the Yule Ball," Jasmine continued. "Ginny found out accidentally, but she was a good enough friend to keep our secret anyway. There are two professors who know, and the veela were able to figure it out on their own — they have an ability to sense such things. And, well, they're French."

"You, Ron, are only the third student we've told," Hermione said. "The third friend. I hope you understand what that means?"

Ron considered that. "Yeah, I think so. You may have waited a year to tell me, but I'm one of the first friends you've deliberately told. The second friend, in fact, since Ginny was an accident. And I wasn't a good friend a year ago, so I can hardly feel offended that I'm 'only' the second." He visibly relaxed at this point, now understanding that what had at first looked like a snub was anything but.

"The question now is, how do you feel about this?" Hermione asked. "About us? Do you think you'll be able to stay our friend now that you know? Will you be able to accept our relationship?"

"And of course, keep our secret, regardless of how you feel," Jasmine added.

Now Ron frowned as he struggled to find the right words. "I... I guess... I don't know," he finally said. "I mean, it's weird, you know? It doesn't seem right. At the same time, it's still you. And it explains a lot of things I've been wondering about. The two of you are the same girls I was friends with last month. If I was able to be friends with you before I knew, shouldn't I be able to be friends with you now?"

"The phrasing is a bit awkward," Neville said, "but that's actually perceptive."

"More than you realize," Hermione agreed, looking impressed.

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed testily. "I'm not a complete idiot."

"Neville is right, though," Jasmine said. "That is perceptive of you. And you're right, too: we're the same today as we were last month. If you could be our friend then, you should be able to manage now."

"But that doesn't mean it won't be weird for you, especially when you see us hold hands, hug, or kiss," Hermione added, and Ron's face went red, thus proving her point. Ginny also shifted uncomfortably, but only Neville noticed. "We understand if it takes you a bit of time to get used to it. We wouldn't expect you to be able to instantly accept it without reservation. We just ask that if you have any problems with this, that you talk to us. Or maybe to Neville or Ginny, if you feel awkward talking to us directly."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll try — I mean that, I'll really try. I'm going to keep my promise about being a better friend. I just... I don't know how easy it will be."

"We're asking you to ignore prejudices that have been passed along in wizarding Britain for generations," Jasmine said. "We know it's a lot. But we think the friendship the three of us share is worth it." The smile she got from Ron in return told them all that he would indeed work hard at it.

"So, what was the other big secret you wanted to tell us?" Neville asked.

"What, there's more?" Ron asked in surprise.

Jasmine snorted, "That was the least of our secrets, Ron." She and Hermione then proceeded to tell them about being soul bonded, the veela prophecy and how it happened to connect with the creation of S.P.E.W., and the ritual celebrations they'd been performing. The only things they left out were the rest of the prophecy about Voldemort and the existence of his horcruxes — the former didn't change the likely need for Jasmine to confront Voldemort, and the latter would hopefully not require the involvement of any of their friends.

When the girls were finished, their three friends were all flabbergasted at what they'd just heard.

"That's... that's unbelievable." Ron exclaimed.

"Only you two would have to deal with two prophecies," Neville said, shaking his head.

"Those rituals are a lot more meaningful, now, I think," Ginny said.

"You've been part of them?" Ron asked.

"Not at first," Ginny answered. "But I joined them for the three they did last term."

"What were they like?" Neville asked.

"They were... amazing." Ginny answered. "I can't begin to tell you what an amazing experience they all were. And I feel so much better, too! Every time, I feel stronger, more confident, school work is easier... It's incredible. And now I learn that it might be part of something even bigger and more important! I'm even more excited about the next one!"

"That will be Imbolc, at the end of January," Jasmine said. "It was the first ritual we ever participated in."

"So what are your plans going forward?" Neville asked.

"To continue as we have been," Jasmine said. "We were told not to try to manipulate the prophecy, but instead to simply be mindful of the ways we might help it along. It could be something big, like encouraging others to participate in more rituals, or something small, like encouraging another witch in her studies."

"The way we understand it," Hermione said, "is that the prophecy comes from Magic, and Magic opens up opportunities for us to help fulfill it. We can choose to do so or not, which is why we still have free will. The more of those opportunities we take advantage of, and the more we make of those opportunities, the closer we'll come to the best possible outcome — or at least the outcome that Magic desires."

"That Magic desires?" Ron asked. "How can magic desire anything?"

"Many believe that Magic — the source of the magic we use for spells — is at least partially sentient," Hermione explained. "It's not a self-aware person like us, but it has basic desires — things it wants or avoids. It's why will and intent are necessary for our magical spells to work. It's also why magical contracts function. Prophecies, so the belief goes, are part of how Magic communicates its desires to us."

"And this prophecy is expressing a desire for... what?" Neville asked, looking intrigued. "Female-only rituals? Equality?"

"It's hard to say for sure," Jasmine said. "Prophecies are sort of ambiguous like that. But I think it's most likely a desire for more of the feminine aspect of magic to be used, because I can see how the lack of that might negatively affect Magic. Greater equality for witches and the celebration of more rituals is part of that, but more as a means to an end."

"We might care more about social and political equality," Hermione pointed out, "but Magic isn't a person. It might have desires, but we shouldn't assume that those desires look anything like our own. Fortunately, fulfilling our desires will probably help achieve what Magic is seeking, so we're all working together."

Ron let out a long sigh. "You two don't do anything by halves, do you? You're dating, even though our entire society would ostracize you for it. You have a soul bond, one of the rarest magical bonds ever. You're destined to kill the worst Dark Lord in centuries. You have two prophecies about you, one of which is a thousand years old. You're involved in ancient practices that channel more magical power than anyone can imagine. And you're expected to reform magical society across the world. I mean, how do you even get out of bed in the morning?'

Jasmine and Hermione both smiled as they looked from Ron, to Neville, to Ginny. "We have good friends who help keep us going," Jasmine said simply, eliciting expressions first of surprise, then of warmth from all three.

Except for Ginny, who also looked guilty.

Monday, January 3, 1996, Afternoon.

"What is it, Ginny?" Neville asked when they were alone. "Something has been bothering you all day. I can tell — and it's not... well, not the obvious reason. There's something else."

Ginny gave him a sidelong look. "You're a bit too perceptive of a boyfriend, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Neville said with a thin smile. "It's also an evasion. Come on, out with it."

"Definitely too perceptive," Ginny said with a sigh. "I... I don't know how to say this. It's embarrassing, and it's been bothering me for months now."

"Does it have anything to do with Jasmine and Hermione?" Neville asked. When Ginny shot him a surprised look, he said, "I've noticed that you seemed uncomfortable around them at times, though I haven't been able to figure out why."

"I don't understand why myself, but I've been having trouble dealing with their relationship," she explained. "I mean, in principle, I don't have a problem with it, even though I think it's weird. I certainly don't want to see them punished for being together. No matter how weird or unnatural it is, it shouldn't be a crime. But... but... I get uncomfortable whenever I see them hug, kiss, or anything like that. Or even when I simply think about it. Then it's more than just weird. I keep wondering why they don't keep it to themselves. Why they force the rest of us to watch it."

Neville frowned. "I think you must be more bothered than you've been prepared to admit. I mean, the physical stuff... well, that's a big part of what a romantic relationship is. When Ron first saw us kissing and threw a fit, it wasn't just the kissing itself — it was the fact that you had a boyfriend, and he wasn't ready to accept that. The physical stuff is simply the most obvious sign."

"Ugh, that makes me feel even worse!" Ginny complained. "I like them both — they are incredibly good friends. I hate being uncomfortable with their relationship!"

After giving the problem some thought, Neville asked, "Do you remember how I held you in the hospital? And how I had my arm around you at the funeral? My doing that made you feel better, right?"

Ginny nodded, not sure why he had changed the subject. "Yes, of course. As bad as I felt just then, it helped a lot to know you were there for me."

"Well, think about the fact that Jasmine and Hermione don't have that right now," Neville said. "This is the most important relationship they'll ever have, and they can't even hold hands in public. They can't show support for each other beyond what's considered normal for friendship, no matter whose funeral they're at or how much pain they might be in. They always have to be on their guard against letting something slip... and all because some people think their relationship is 'unnatural' and don't want to have to see it." His tone was gentle, but he looked at her a little pointedly.

Ginny's expression was stricken. "I... I never thought of it quite like that before. So... what do I do?" she asked in a whisper.

"Well, that's the thing about prejudice: we inherit this stuff from our families and society as a whole, and we don't even realize it until one day the issue comes up and wham! We get smacked in the face with beliefs we didn't even know we held." Ginny nodded glumly. "But you know, we don't have to think the same way our parents did. For example, our society looks down on muggleborn, yet we know better, right? Well, this is kind of the same. The idea that these relationships are wrong isn't a fact, it's an opinion you bought into because you were raised with it. But that doesn't mean you have to hold it for the rest of your life. If it doesn't match your experience — and I think we both agree that it doesn't — then maybe it's time to start thinking differently."

Ginny looked pensive but didn't say anything. "If it helps," Neville went on, "try to stop thinking about them as witches first and foremost. Instead, think of them simply as people who love each other. Think about us being in their position and how you'd want others to react. And whenever you catch yourself feeling uncomfortable, remember that you're allowed to decide for yourself — nobody's forcing you to condemn their relationship."

Ginny drew in a deep breath and let it out again. "You're right. I'll definitely work on it — I promise." He held out his arms to her, and she gratefully moved into them. "How'd you get to be so wise?" she asked against his chest.

Neville smiled down at her. "Hermione asked me that once. I told her I spend a lot of time hanging around smart witches." His tone grew serious again. "In this case, though, I had some of the same feelings at first — though not as bad as you, I'm guessing."

"And?" she said expectantly. "What did you do?"

He shrugged. "I decided that they were my friends, and that I wasn't going to be a prat about it."

"It's that simple, huh?"

"It's that simple."

Monday, January 3, 1996, Late Night.

Hermione sat in bed, looking back over the notes she'd made earlier that day and adding new ideas for avenues of research. After telling their story to their friends, she and Jasmine had disappeared so they could interrogate Walburga's portrait to learn everything they could about horcruxes. She hadn't been happy telling them such things, but like Sirius, she understood the need and censored her information to that which might prove useful in finding and destroying them.

Tomorrow I'll have to talk to Sirius, then hopefully he'll let me research some of these related subjects, she thought. Maybe I can even talk to Walburga again. She might be able to help me narrow my focus to save time. She frowned at the thought of the portrait, wondering how she was going to proceed, but then set that issue aside. I still have time to decide.

After putting out the lights, she rolled over and snuggled into Jasmine's sleeping form. Sirius hadn't actually given them a room together — her father would have had a heart attack at that — but he had moved Hermione to the room next to Jasmine's, then pointed out the hidden door between them. So long as both outer doors were tightly locked, no one would notice what went on inside.

Sirius had even gone to great lengths describing the effectiveness of the silencing charms he'd placed on the rooms and Jasmine's en suite. Both witches blushed furiously and Hermione had wanted to hex him, but Jasmine later pointed out that behaving in such an over-the-top manner was likely just a coping mechanism for him.

She's probably right, too, Hermione concluded as she molded herself against Jasmine. He probably has no idea how to deal with two witches like us, so trying too hard to behave in a manner that passes as "normal" for him might be the best he can manage right now. It's certainly better than walking on eggshells or avoiding us.

That doesn't mean that I'm not going to get him back, though...

Wednesday, January 5, 1996, Afternoon.

"Hey, Sirius."

"Tonks! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work, catching dark wizards?"

"Yeah — uh, can we talk, Sirius? Privately?"

"Of course — let's go into the sitting room."

Once they were behind a silenced and sealed door, Tonks fidgeted nervously before finally bringing herself to speak. "You know how I haven't been getting interesting assignments since right before the end of the summer? Just routine and boring stuff?" Sirius nodded. "Well, I was called in to see Scrimgeour this morning for a new assignment. It's interesting. Maybe important, too."

"Great!" Sirius said. "What is it?"

"Uh, that's the problem," Tonks responded, her nervousness increasing a couple of notches. "I can't say. Before he was willing to give me the assignment, he insisted that I take an extra security oath to not tell anyone what I'm doing. That's got me worried, Sirius. Do you think... do you think they don't trust me? That they maybe know about my work with the Order?"

Sirius considered that. "It's a fair bet," he said slowly. "All the evidence fits. Shacklebolt has been in a similar situation, too."

"What am I going to do?"

Sirius sighed. "Clearly they either don't know for sure or don't mind too much, otherwise they'd have fired you. Or worse. But you are going to have to make some hard decisions."

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you join the Order in the first place?" he asked.

"Well, to help stop You-Know-Who, of course."

"But more importantly, because the Ministry wasn't doing anything, right?" Tonks nodded. "Well, the Ministry is acting now — not as fast as I'd like, maybe, but is the Order doing a lot better? Is it doing anything truly critical?"

Tonks shook her head and said ruefully, "Ever since Jasmine, Hermione, and the Grangers chewed us out over things we could be doing, I've noticed that what little we have been doing hasn't been significant. And then Arthur gets killed over what? Guarding a room that others can't steal from anyway? Why put so much time and effort into guarding that room, but none into preparing safe houses, training, or anything else?"

"I think you need to put your career first. Unless and until the Ministry starts going in the wrong direction again, they were the ones you first swore loyalty to."

"I suppose you're right," Tonks admitted. "It's a difficult situation to accept."

"Like I said, though, they can't be too upset with you," Sirius reminded her, "otherwise, they wouldn't be giving you such a great assignment."

"True!" she said, her mood brightening.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Sirius asked. "I know you can't tell me what you're doing, but that doesn't mean that I can't do anything at all."

Tonks thought for a moment, then said, "I don't suppose you still have any old books with unusual or powerful spells? In particular, I'm looking for detection spells."

Sirius frowned. "Just to be clear, you aren't doing anything that will put you against the family, will it?"

"No!" Tonks replied quickly. "Nothing like that at all. You just brought Mum back into the family, and I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that."

"Good," Sirius said as he got up out of his chair. "In that case, I can introduce you to a valuable resource. But you can't tell anyone else about it — especially not Dumbledore or the Order."

"Sure, Sirius, what is it?" Tonks asked as they left the sitting room.

"I'm going to key you into the Black Family Library, my dear Nymphadora," Sirius announced — just before he started running to avoid getting hexed.

Friday, January 7, 1996, Afternoon.

"So, Moony," Sirius said casually, "have you ever noticed how close Jasmine and Hermione are?"

Remus frowned into his drink, suddenly feeling a disturbing amount of deja vu. "Uh, yes, I guess so?" He looked around the kitchen and realized that this was one of the rare evenings that the place wasn't bustling with Order members. Even Molly wasn't puttering nearby, though she was understandably doing less of that than she used to.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he realized that the only people in the house were him, Sirius, the two girls, and the youngest veela. Everyone else was conveniently out for the evening.

"I'm guessing you must have seen a lot of them when you were teaching them in their third year," Sirius continued in a voice that Remus now realized was a deliberate attempt to sound casual. He knew Sirius far too well not to recognize when his friend was setting him for something. "Did they seem as close then?"

"They were pretty close, yes, but I think they're closer now," Remus replied, sipping his drink slowly. Then at the last second, he added, "As close as you and James, in fact."

Sirius spit out his drink and coughed hard. "No," he said hoarsely as he tried to breathe. "We weren't that close. Definitely not that close."

"Oh, I don't know," Remus countered, all innocence. "They remind me so much of you two. I often imagine the two of them walking the same path that I know you and James were once on."

Sirius looked a bit bug-eyed at that, and Remus had to pinch himself under the table to keep from laughing. "In fact," he continued, "I'm sure those two get up to all sorts of the same things that you and James once did with each other."

Now Sirius looked positively ill. "Moony, I, uh, I have something I need to tell you about Jasmine and Hermione," he said quickly, all pretense of casualness now dropped.

"Oh?"

"Yes, they, uh... well..." Sirius stammered, apparently having lost his nerve around the time that he nearly lost his dinner.

"Come on, spit it out," Remus encouraged him, having long since figured out where this conversation was going.

"It's just that... they, well..." Sirius continued, holding up one finger from each hand and putting them side-by-side in a pathetic attempt to communicate something that only he seemed to understand.

Eventually, Remus decided to take pity on his old friend. "Are you by any chance referring to the fact that Jasmine and Hermione are a romantic couple?"

"Well, yeah, uh..." Sirius started, then his head snapped up as he fixed the werewolf with an expression that was equal parts incredulity and outrage. "What? You knew? When did you know?"

"Oh, I've known for quite some time now," Remus said casually. "You mean you didn't?"

"I just found out a few days ago!"

"Hm." was Remus' only reaction as he looked at Sirius and sipped his drink.

"How did you find out?" Sirius demanded.

"I'm smarter than you," Remus answered serenely.

"There's no way that you're smarter than me," Sirius protested.

"Who was made prefect in our fifth year?"

"That only meant you were more responsible than I was," Sirius retorted. "Besides, that was ages ago."

"Who was hired as a professor at Hogwarts?"

"I was in prison!"

"Not helping your case there," Remus pointed out, causing Sirius to glower at him.

"I can't believe you knew already," Sirius said petulantly. Remus simply shrugged. "Well," Sirius continued, "there's a lot more I know that you don't."

"Oh, I doubt that," Remus drawled, trying to bait him.

"There's no doubt about it," Sirius insisted with a smug grin.

"Spying on their sex life isn't something you should be so proud of, you know."

"I do not spy on my goddaughter having sex!" Sirius shouted in exasperation, then went completely still, realizing how loud he had been.

"What?!" came two teen witches' voices from the sitting room.

Now Remus laughed.

Friday, January 7, 1996, Evening.

Once Remus explained that he had simply been goading Sirius into embarrassing himself, Jasmine and Hermione were mollified. Sirius, though, kept glaring at Remus while muttering about getting revenge.

Remus didn't worry about that... much. He was glad that the girls had joined the conversation and seemed willing to talk to him again. The reason for it soon became clear when they informed him about their soul bond.

"Wow," he said as he stared off into the distance, trying to digest this news. "That's not something I would have ever expected. Though, to be fair, I guess I wouldn't have expected you two to become a couple, either."

"Thanks for keeping our secret about that, by the way," Jasmine said. "That's, uh, important to us, for obvious reasons."

Remus smiled. "I never even thought about telling anyone else. Well, maybe Sirius, for all of ten minutes; but I knew that it was ultimately something you needed to handle on your own, if you chose to."

"Hey," Sirius said, suddenly frowning, "didn't we talk about this on Halloween?"

"No," said Remus with a perfectly straight face, and Sirius' frown only deepened as he struggled to piece together his hazy memories.

"Anyway," Remus continued, turning back to the girls, "I also knew that I couldn't earn your trust without demonstrating that I was trustworthy. So instead I simply kept my mouth shut and my eyes open. After all, if I could accidentally overhear you through a door, someone else might manage it as well."

"No one has, have they?" Hermione asked.

Remus shook his head. "Not that I've been able to tell. Although it was quite obvious to me that you act like a couple once I knew, no one else seems to have figured it out."

Jasmine looked deep in thought, then appeared to come to a decision. "Say, Remus? Sirius has already been telling me stories about my parents, but do you know any that he might not remember?"

"Absolutely," he said with a smile. "In fact, Sirius wouldn't be able to remember some of the best."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed, startled from his brooding.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because some of the best ones involve him and James being roaring drunk at the time," Remus answered. He ignored Sirius' squawk of protest and proceeded to tell a few stories of Jasmine's father behaving in some highly inappropriate ways. He hadn't intended to share some of them for a few years yet, but with Jasmine involved in a soul bond, he figured she was more mature than her physical age.

He also knew that he still had a lot of lost ground to recover with her. She and Hermione seemed to be warming back up to him, slowly, but they obviously didn't trust him as much as they did Sirius. He knew that there was even more going on than the soul bond, but he didn't dare press. They would confide in him in time.

He hoped.

Monday, January 10, 1996, Afternoon.

"Amelia!" Sirius exclaimed, grinning broadly as he entered her office. "Have you finally reconsidered my invitation to have dinner?"

"Business, Sirius. Business," she replied as she pointed to the chair on the other side of her desk. "Sit."

"Woof!" he said as he sat, never losing his grin.

Bones rolled her eyes but didn't take the bait. Leaning forward, she said bluntly, "I need to know what Arthur Weasley was doing in the Department of Mysteries last month."

Sirius' grin immediately disappeared. "Why do you think I know?" he asked evasively.

"Sirius, the investigation has stalled," she said. "We barely have any idea what killed him, and we have no idea at all why he was killed. Right now, finding out why he was down there is our only hope of getting any leads on this case and maybe catching his killer. Or don't you want his murder to be solved?"

"That's not fair!" Sirius retorted. "Arthur was a good man!"

"Of course he was," Bones agreed. "That's why I want to catch his killer. Why don't you help me?"

Sirius fidgeted for a few moments before conceding, "I may know some things, but nothing I can tell you right now." Before she could protest, he quickly continued, "Some of the secrets I know aren't mine to tell. I've made promises that I'm not going to break."

Bones calmed a little — just a little — then said, "Then what can you tell me?"

"He wasn't down there for any nefarious purposes," Sirius said.

"I already knew that," she said impatiently. "No one suspects Arthur of being involved in anything that would hurt the Ministry. Well, no one sensible — Fudge and his cronies have their own reality that they are lost in, I suppose. But that doesn't mean that there isn't some other threat to the Ministry that he knew about."

His guilty look told her that she was on the right track. "Let me talk to a couple of people," Sirius finally offered. "Maybe, with their permission, I can tell you more?"

Bones sighed. "Something tells me that's the best I'll get out of you today. But you need to understand that this case is already getting old. Before long it may be too old to solve even if you do talk. So whatever you can tell me, I'll need it as soon as possible."

"I'll talk to them as soon as I can," Sirius promised as he stood. "Now, I don't suppose I can still interest you in—"

"Go on, Sirius," Bones said as she pulled out a file to work on. "Time is running out."

"Fine, fine," he muttered as he left her office, wondering if maybe he'd lost his touch after all.

Tuesday, January 11, 1996, Evening.

"Excuse me, Miss Potter, Miss Granger, but do you have a few minutes?"

Jasmine looked up from her book and was surprised to see the Headmaster standing in the doorway to the sitting room, waiting expectantly.

"Um... sure, I guess so," she responded, putting her book aside. Sirius was right behind him as Dumbledore entered the room and sat slowly on one of the chairs. "Is there a problem?" she asked while looking at Sirius, but he simply shrugged.

"I honestly don't know whether it qualifies as a problem or not," Dumbledore said, "but it is interesting. Yesterday, Hagrid came to my office with a message — a message from the centaurs, if you can believe it. I think I can count on one hand the number of times the centaurs have done such a thing in all the years I've been at Hogwarts."

"That is odd," Sirius agreed.

"Are you familiar with a centaur named Bane, Miss Potter?" the Headmaster asked.

"Uh... yeah, I think so," Jasmine answered. "I think he was the one who was so upset with me when I had detention in the Forbidden Forest my first year."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I thought that was the same one. He sought Hagrid out to deliver a message from the entire herd. He said, and I quote, 'Tell the prophesied witch — the red-maned one — that Mars has been flaring bright, even more than it did before the eighth month was born.'"

"That's... odd," Jasmine responded.

"But not incomprehensible," Hermione chimed in. "You're a prophesied witch with red hair, Jasmine. The eighth month is August, and it was born on the first of the month — that was the day our houses were attacked."

"My thinking exactly, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "I don't suppose you've talked to the centaurs before about their methods of divining the future?"

"No, not at all," Jasmine replied. "But I'm guessing that Mars flaring is bad, huh?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "It can mean many things. The most obvious is some sort of violence, which would be in keeping with the events of August 1. But it can also be strife or even change. Are you aware of anything approaching?"

"No, not... Oh, Nott! There is one thing I've been meaning to bring up," Jasmine said. "I've been informed that Theodore Nott has been given a job to do in the castle — by Voldemort personally. And I've also been informed that Snape is trying to help."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed, shifting forward in his seat and gripping the armrests.

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore corrected tiredly, then asked, "Where did you get this information, Miss Potter?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," Jasmine replied, "but they are reliable. I wanted you to know that the head of Slytherin and a Slytherin student are conspiring against the school."

"I can assure you that things are well in hand and that Professor Snape has my full confidence."

"He's too much of a bully to have anyone else's confidence," Sirius retorted. "Are you seriously not going to do anything about this?"

"There's nothing more that needs to be done," Dumbledore said as he stood. "If you have nothing else that can shed light on the centaurs' message, I need to be going. I urge you, though, to keep your eyes open and be cautious."

Once he had left, the other three looked at each other in disappointment. "I can't believe he's not going to do anything," Sirius grumbled.

"I'm not surprised," Hermione said. "He's never been willing to listen to a bad word about Snape, no matter what he does. Some day his penchant for giving second chances to vile people will get him killed."

Thursday, January 13, 1996, Afternoon.

"Mother? I had an idea I wanted to run by you."

"What is it, Sirius?"

"Given what Jasmine and Hermione told us last week, I think we need to prioritize the elimination of Voldemort even more than we have been," he said. "It was always important, obviously, but we incorrectly assumed that it was the most important thing she'd have to do for quite a while, perhaps even in her life. Now we know that he's more an obstacle to her doing what's truly important. A millennium-old prophecy made by the greatest seer in veela history trumps the ramblings of a drunken Trelawney in the Hog's Head."

Walburga nodded. "I agree. But what do you have in mind?"

"Our spy in Malfoy Manor should be used primarily either for emergencies or to find a way to arrange for a confrontation between Jasmine and Voldemort — a confrontation that will be on our terms and hopefully lead to a resolution that will be in our favor."

"What about the Ministry?" Walburga asked.

"I'm not as sure about that," Sirius admitted. "I'd like to think that if we feed Amelia the right information, we can get her on our side for when the time comes. Having one or two dozen aurors backing Jasmine up would make me feel a lot better. I'm not sure what to tell her."

Again, the portrait nodded. "That's a good idea, Sirius, and we shall have to look carefully at what information we release. Jasmine Dorea stands a much better chance of beating him if we can control the conditions under which they meet, even a little bit. Alright, we'll all start focusing on how we might bring about such a confrontation at a time and place of our choosing. But do you think she's ready? And what does she say about it?"

"She agrees that it's probably the best approach. She's not eager to face him again, but she'd rather do it on her terms than on his. And she still doesn't trust the Headmaster enough to take care of something like that, though she's warmed up a bit to him lately." Sirius sighed. "I don't know if anyone can ever be truly ready for such a fight, but I don't see it happening right away regardless. Every day more she has is another day of preparation. And in the end, she'll have Hermione by her side. Together, I think they have a chance."

Friday, January 14, 1996, Afternoon.

Xenophilius Lovegood quietly stepped into his daughter's room and marveled at the work she had done to it. He remembered reacting with tolerant amusement when she announced upon returning home for the holidays that she was going to repaint her room — he was more than willing to indulge her in whatever would make her happy. Day by day, though, his amusement had turned into wonder as Luna transformed her bedroom into a monument to friendship.

Across the ceiling were thirteen faces of young people she'd gotten to know at Hogwarts. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Wizard and witch. British and French. Winding around all of them were delicate golden chains made not from painted links, but rather from a single word repeated thousands of times: friends.

"What do you think, Daddy?" Luna asked, startling him out of his musings. "It's nearly done."

"It's truly amazing work, Luna my dear," he responded. "I never realized you had such a talent for art and painting."

"Neither did I," she answered. "I guess I was simply inspired."

"If only everyone could experience such inspiration, even once in their lives," Xeno said absently.

"Have you, Daddy?" Luna asked, looking up at him.

"Yes," he said as he smiled down at her. "Twice, in fact. The first was when I married your mother. The second was when you were born."

Luna smiled herself and leaned in to hug her father.

"I'm proud of you, you know," Xeno said. "Not just for this amazing work, but for what you're doing at school. The friends you're making, what you're learning from them, what you've started writing for The Quibbler — all of it. And your mother would have been proud as well."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said softly.

Eventually Xeno said, "The holiday break will be over soon. Is there anything you want to do before you have to leave?

Luna thought about that. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to make Plimpy soup before I leave?"

"Of course I can," Xeno said. "But only if you gather up the ingredients. This time of year, it will be easier to catch the Freshwater Plimpies around sunset, remember."

"I'll go down to the stream Sunday evening," Luna said. "That way we can have the soup as part of a going away dinner."

Saturday, January 15, 1996, Afternoon.

"Do you have a few minutes?" Hermione asked as she entered Sirius' bedroom.

"Certainly," Elladora said. "Is something wrong? I didn't expect to see either of you al—"

"I was curious about your name," Hermione said without preamble as she sat down.

"My... my name?" Elladora repeated, confused.

"Yes, it's a lovely name. Interesting, too. Ella. Dora. I did some research — 'Dora' derives from the Greek word for gift. The connection between Dora and Dorea was obvious, especially with another Dorea in the Black family." Hermione smiled. "Jasmine's middle name is Dorea, and she's named after Dorea Black, Walburga's favorite aunt, so I've heard quite a bit about her."

Elladora nodded, clearly unsure where this was going.

"Ella, though, was harder to figure out. Its origins aren't clear, but one popular theory is that it comes from the ancient Greek aella, which makes sense given that Dora and Dorea are Greek as well." The more Hermione talked, the more confused Elladora became.

"Aella means 'whirlwind' in ancient Greek," Hermione continued, "which I learned when I found that one of our friends is naming her baby that in honor of me. When I heard what the name meant, it made me think of a verse from the Bible, Hosea 8:7 'For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.' Have you ever heard that one?"

"Uh, no I don't—" Elladora tried to answer.

"Elladora. Ella... Dora. Gift of the Whirlwind." She paused and looked thoughtful. "It reminds me quite a bit of the author of a book I have — a book which must have caused a veritable storm of controversy in its day. She called herself Dorea Tempest Pureheart." Elladora went very still, and Hermione met her gaze directly for the first time. "Did you spend much time with the veela?" she asked.

"Much...? Excuse me?"

"The veela," Hermione repeated. "When you were gathering information for your book, did you spend much time with the veela? As you know, I've been spending a lot of time with them myself, participating in their rituals and of course learning about their views on sex and intimacy. I realized early on that there were an awful lot of similarities between what you wrote and what the veela believe."

"I... I..." Elladora faltered, but all at once she sagged as she recognized the futility of protest. "Yes," she said softly, "yes, I did."

Hermione stood up and walked forward until she was right in front of Elladora's portrait. "I want you to know," she said quietly, "that I consider you my hero. Your book changed my life in so many ways that I can't even begin to describe it, much less properly thank you. But I do thank you, and some day I hope that I can have as much positive influence on others as you've had on me."

She reached out and gently touched the canvas, then turned and left the room without another word.

Back on the wall, Elladora wrapped her arms around herself, took a deep, ragged breath, and dearly wished that portraits could weep.

"Madam Black, may I have a few minutes of your time?" Hermione asked as she entered the warded portrait room. "Alone?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger," Walburga responded, and the other frames all emptied. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think so," Hermione answered. "You don't have a problem with... well, with Jasmine and me being a couple, do you?"

"I can't say that I personally approve," Walburga admitted. "It's simply not how I was raised or lived. But, given the circumstances, I would be foolish to oppose it."

"Circumstances?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. One thing that we Blacks are instilled with above everything else is to respect Magic," Walburga explained. "If your relationship is not merely permitted by Magic, but willed and blessed by it, then I'd be going against some of my most fundamental beliefs if I rejected you two."

"Ah, you mean the soul bond," Hermione said.

"Yes, exactly," Walburga replied. "Unfortunately I doubt that everyone will feel the same way about your soul bond. That sort of respect for Magic isn't taught in every family."

"Family is important to you, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

"Absolutely," Walburga responded, standing a bit straighter. "In some ways, it's the most important thing."

Hermione nodded. "I wondered if that was part of why you chose to live in this house. To remain connected to family."

"What do you mean?" Walburga asked.

"Well, it's situated right in the middle of muggles," Hermione clarified. "You do remember that, right?"

"Of course I remember where my own house is," Walburga said, sounding a bit offended. "What you don't realize is that this area wasn't always filled with muggles. At one time, Grimmauld Place was a single, isolated manor. But slowly muggle housing encroached on us, and as our fortunes declined, we had to sell off pieces. Even to muggles."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Yes, it's all so much clearer now."

"What are you talking about?" Walburga asked, her frustration starting to show. "What is the point of all of these questions?"

Hermione walked forward until she was a few inches from the portrait, right in line with Walburga's face. "I know what you are, Madam Black."

"Excuse me? What do you mean by that?"

"I know what you are. And who you are," Hermione responded. "I know that you are Walburga Black, not simply a portrait. And I know why."

"Wh-what do you... you can't... I mean, you just..." Walburga stammered, stepping back and almost tripping over her chair when she tried to sit in it. "How?" she finally asked hoarsely.

"It took a while, but all the clues were there," Hermione explained. "Your knowledge of horcruxes, and the fact that you can do things which are not only impossible for portraits, but which require a soul."

Walburga sagged, looking defeated. "I probably should have realized that something like this might happen, what with how often Sirius has praised your intelligence." Expecting the worst, she asked quietly, "What are you going to do?"

"I've been wondering about that for a bit now," Hermione admitted. "In the end, I don't think I'll do anything."

Walburga looked up, her expression somewhere between hope and disbelief. "Really? Why?

"Most importantly, because you've been so helpful," Hermione answered. "You were by all accounts an evil woman while alive and used an utterly vile process to create... this. Yet somehow, what you have become isn't evil. I'm not sure how good you are, but you aren't evil, and you aren't an enemy. So long as you continue to demonstrate that by being as helpful as you have been, I don't see any reason to take action. I can't forgive you for all you've done because it's simply not my place — you haven't done anything to me. But I can do my best to give you a chance to redeem yourself and become better than you were."

Walburga nodded. "Thank you."

"However," Hermione went on, "I think you should tell Sirius."

Walburga's eyes widened in horror. "No! I can't do that! He hated me while I was alive, and he despises the Dark Arts! I'm everything he's ever loathed most in the world! He's only been able to arrive at a civil, polite relationship with me because he thinks I'm only a portrait!"

"But you're not a portrait," Hermione pointed out. "You're his mother. Somehow, in some fashion, you are his mother. By not telling him this, you're denying him a chance to truly reconnect and reconcile with a parent he believes to be dead and gone." She paused while Walburga thought about this, then continued, "I'm not saying that it will be easy. I'm not saying that he will instantly forgive you. In fact, I'm sure he won't. But I think you two are missing out on having a much better relationship. I think that the truth will go a long way toward healing both of you."

Slowly, Walburga nodded again. "You... make some good points."

"Think about it, OK?" Hermione asked. "Goodbye, Madam Black."

"Miss Granger?" she called out before the younger witch reached the door. Hermione turned and gave the portrait a questioning look. "Call me Walburga?" Hermione smiled and nodded, then exited the room.

Back on the wall, Walburga put her head in her hands, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.