Cousins

Ginny and Albus were on their second day sifting through the bureaucracy at the Ministry in Australia. The afternoon before had gotten them nowhere. Dakota, who still lived with Mrs. Gertrude and was going through a healer training program in Melbourne, took the day off to help. "Maybe as a citizen I can make requests you can't," she suggested. Ginny was grateful for whatever help they could get.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give you that information," a triple chinned man with oversized glasses told them. The plate on his desk read Newman Fuller, Head of Records. This was their fourth department overall. Law Enforcement referred them to Registration, who turned them over to the Department of Muggle Relations (Ginny could only assume this was because the compound was owned by a Muggle businessman) and finally here, to a subdepartment of Law Enforcement: the Hall of Records. "The documentation you are requesting is highly classified."

Leonard Godfrey, who had used his muggleborn brother's magic to create a business enterprise, was arrested by the Australian government. This was only after decades of paying off many Ministry officials, only to have the compound finally infiltrated by the New Zealand Auror department. Somehow Australia was still able to do the investigation themselves, keeping (and now containing) all official documents kept by Godfrey. Ginny could only assume this meant all the births, and possibly deaths, that happened at the compound. It still wasn't much of a lead, but it was as good as they had.

"I am requesting the record on behalf of Imogen Dahl, who I hold guardianship over and who was born in the compound," Ginny said, pushing forward the official paperwork proving as much. As many of the documents that would normally be required for guardianship were still being searched for at the compound, Harry had pulled some strings to get this through. They never did get around to finding other documents for Imogen.

"Is Miss Dahl present then?" Fuller asked, examining the paperwork closely.

"No, she isn't, but—"

"Then I can't help you."

"Then I would like to request the records on my behalf. I lived in the compound for about a decade. Dakota Crewe."

"I can give you limited access," Fuller said. He shuffled through a file on his desk, pulling out a paper. "If you fill out this form, then we can owl copies to you in three weeks."

"That's not soon enough," Dakota complained.

"Well, Miss Crewe, we have to sort through the papers and see which are pertinent to you—"

"How is this not a public record?" Ginny demanded. She felt anger rising in her. After everything the Australian Ministry had done to cover up what had happened to hundreds of innocent wizards and witches in their country, this was the last straw. "People who have family missing have a right to look through this and see if there is anything on them!"

"I don't make the rules, Mrs. Potter," he said, looking back down at the guardianship paperwork to check her name. "This is confidential—"

"No it's not," Albus interrupted him. He flipped through a small notebook he had carried around the past week. Ginny hadn't been sure what he was writing down, but he brought a book of laws that Hermione sent him. Albus had poured over it as they stood in every queue and as they had dinner with Dakota and Mrs. Gertrude the night before. Ginny figured he hadn't been interested in the conversation, which mainly consisted of the three women catching up, but apparently he had some purpose in his work. "According to the international wizarding code 10-802.b, no country is allowed to withhold documentation pertaining to wizards or witches of international communities, including, but not exclusive to, the births, deaths, or marriages of citizens. Such records should be free and open to the public."

Albus looked up at Fuller who was dumbfounded. Ginny, herself, blinked in surprise.

"Well, yes, but I don't believe the intent—"

"The intent was to ensure transparency in cases such as this. If I remember correctly, the Australian Ministry avoided a lot of embarrassing question after Godfrey was arrested, including an arrangement to not be investigated by the International Wizengamot under the circumstances that they provided full and complete care of those who had lived at the compound."

"Which the Australian Ministry complied to by pouring nearly a million galleons into efforts to—"

"To take care of the physical needs of those displaced, sure," Albus said. "But as this was only a few years ago, I would imagine a dozen or so victims coming forward to the I.W. would bring your compliance, or lack thereof, to the attention of every media outlet worldwide, and an investigation to boot. You don't want that, do you?"

Fuller cleared his throat. His face was bright red and his lips were pressed together. "Let me see what I can do for you," he said, pushing back from his desk.

He made his way down a wide hallway, entering a door on the right. Ginny looked at Dakota who was turned away, covering her mouth, barely stifling laughter. Then she looked at Albus. He stood, seventeen and unabashed as he flipped through his notes, loading up his next argument. "Bravo," Ginny said. He had always been an astute child, but she was still stunned and impressed.

"Well, his whole line was complete bollocks."

"Language, Albus," Ginny said, turning to face forward again, adjusting her jacket. "But yes. It was."

Twenty minutes later Ginny, Albus, and Dakota each carried two boxes filled with papers in hand. Ginny suggested they take the bus back to Mrs. Gertrude. When they arrived, she already had something of a feast laid out. Back when there were around a dozen people living here, Mrs. Gertrude took care of almost all the cooking. Ginny could tell she hadn't gotten used to the numbers being pared to her and Dakota. In fact, Ginny couldn't help but wonder if Dakota stayed as much for Mrs. Gertrude as for the convenience of a place to live while attending school.

They adjusted the plates, Albus digging into the food as they sorted through the paperwork. "Do you think they really gave us everything?" Dakota asked.

"I hope so," Ginny sighed. "Or at least what we need. I really don't want to go back."

"Don't worry," Albus said, pulling out a stack of papers. "I have about five more laws to throw at them."

Dakota threw back her head, laughing. Albus tried to suppress a smile, turning pink.

When they were halfway through the first box, Dakota found file after file of birth records. They gathered around her as she scanned each page carefully.

"Skip to the year Imogen was born," Ginny said after the second page, seeing the dates in the far left column.

"Of course," Dakota said.

"August twenty-ninth," Ginny said. "Or there abouts."

Dakota's finger went down the page. "Here!" she shouted as they came across the line. "Imogen! August twenty-ninth at 4:52 in the afternoon."

Everything was handwritten at a sloppy, slanted angle. "No last name?"

"No, but who else could it be?"

"They don't have parent names either," Albus pointed out. "Just their nationalities."

Dakota nodded her head. "Obviously if they were born there, they didn't have outside connections and he probably wanted to keep it that way. Even if they had grandparents, those grandparents wouldn't know about them."

"British," Ginny said, pointing to the word written under Mother's Nationality. Next to Father's Nationality there was a simple question mark. "Why wouldn't they have the father's nationality?"

"If it were out here I would guess the father was unknown in general," Dakota said. "But even if there had been more than one possibility, Godfrey and his staff would have known. Or been able to figure out. Or for that matter, they would have defaulted to an assigned husband."

Dakota was right, but that didn't make the question mark make any more sense. And that her mother was from Britain didn't help either. As Harry was so quick to point out, Imogen had gone to France. It was painfully close to a week since Imogen left, which meant she could be almost anywhere now, even with the most rudimentary muggle forms of transportation. Perhaps it wasn't her mother she was trying to find. Who knew, though… there had been others from the compound who arrived with siblings, like Taylor, or friends that they'd been on the street with before being conned and manipulated into going. It was a long shot, but if Imogen's parents knew each other before, they might still figure out where Imogen had gone through researching her mother. They sifted through only a few more things before having a final meal with Dakota and Mrs. Gertrude, then headed back to England.

In the morning, Imogen insisted on a chance to bathe in the lake, making Hal promise to stay behind. She still put up a few spells to block onlookers as she got herself more clean than she had in days.

"Really, is that necessary?" Hal asked. Imogen was scrubbing her legs when he came to the edge of the lake.

"Obviously," Imogen shouted back. "I thought you said you'd wait back at the camp for me."

"You're taking too long," he snapped.

Imogen finished up quickly, getting out of the lake and drying herself off. She needed to do laundry badly, but she pulled out the least dirty shirt and shorts to wear, then got rid of the floating curtains that had blocked her from Hal's view.

"Finally ready, Snow White?"

Imogen asked far fewer questions as they walked. It seemed never ending, though Imogen mostly felt that way when she was particularly hungry around mid day. They found a fruit tree, both of them gathered an armful, eating while they walked.

"Not a whole lot longer," Hal said just before dusk.

He sounded as worn out as Imogen felt. It was also getting dark, which made Imogen doubt whether it was accurate that they were almost there.

Imogen stopped, leaning against a tree to catch a breath. She was wiping sweat from her face when someone grabbed her from behind. She screamed and Hal turned around. Two men emerged from the trees by Hal. She turned enough to see the large, burly man with a wand, grasping her wrists and twisting her arms behind her.

"What the hell?!" Hal shouted at him. The other two held onto his arms, but he wasn't fighting the same way as Imogen, who tried to kick and pull free.

"Who is dis?" the man behind her asked. His voice was gravelly and harsh. He pulled at Imogen's arm and she whimpered, looking at Hal, though his focus was still on the man.

"The girl Sabina asked for."

"She does not look right," he said.

"I don't care, I said it's who Sabina wanted, so could you lay off her? Seriously, look how small she is. Do you really need to do that?"

The man huffed, but let Imogen's arms half free, holding tight to her wrists. "Ve vill see," he snarled. He pushed Imogen forward and Hal shrugged off the other two to walk beside her.

"It will be fine," Hal whispered, though Imogen didn't feel reassured. If this was how they received people who were being sought, she wondered how intruders were handled.

They must have been very close to the colony, because little shanty houses and tents were all around as they were pushed forward. Little children stopped, whispering to each other as they passed. In the center arena was a large bonfire with logs littering the space, some occupied by Gypsies. Ringing the edges was a caravan of brightly colored wagons. To the north were several horses. The way they edged along one area Imogen figured there was a spell fencing them in.

From the largest wagon, set along the west side of the circle, came a small, bony woman. Her hair was a frizzy grey, thick and large. She wore every color Imogen could imagine, from her multi-colored skirt, to the lime green shirt, covered by a purple vest, and topped with a golden shawl around her shoulders. "I vas starting to sink you vould not return," the woman said.

"I told you I'd be back, Sabina," Hal said lazily.

Another body came running from the wagon. She had black, curly hair and couldn't have been much older than Imogen. "Hal!" she shouted. "Hal, you're back!" She had a Scottish accent, much like his. She darted passed Sabina, who was busy examining Imogen, and threw herself around his neck. Hal smiled wrapping his arms around her too, then pulled her back, examining her face.

Imogen looked at them from the corner of her eye, her attention divided between their reunion and Sabina. The woman came closer to her, foggy green eyes wide. Sabina reached out a wrinkled hand, grabbing at Imogen's face. She turned it to various angles.

"He brought ze wrong one," the man, still holding onto Imogen's wrists, spat.

"Vhy do you say dat?" Sabina asked.

"You told him the caster vould be light," he said.

"You vere alvays so simple," Sabina replied. She was looking into Imogen's eyes. "Vat is your name?"

"Imogen," she replied. "Imogen Dahl." The men near Hal exchanged a dark look.

Sabina kept her focus on Imogen, though. "Show yourself, child."

Imogen looked over to Hal. He was still holding the girl, looking at Imogen with an intensity she hadn't seen from him. He nodded. Imogen closed her eyes, twisting her right hand uncomfortably behind her until she was able to remove the changes she made to herself back in London.

There was a collective gasp and the man let go of her, though Sabina's wrinkled hands were still on her face. Imogen opened her eyes, looking around. She hadn't noticed so many people surrounding them before. "Zair," Sabina said. Her smile was toothy and there was a glint in her eye that was much younger than the rest of her. "It is ze girl!" she shouted, looking around. "Start ze feast!"

There was an uproar of cheers and excitement from those around her. Hal walked towards Imogen and Sabina, the girl attached to his side. He was smiling. "I guess I should have figured, Snow White," Hal said. "This is my sister, Harper. Harper, this is Imogen."

Harper smiled, but she still looked around at the others like she was trying to decide whether or not to feel excited. Imogen felt the same. "I-I don't understand… what's happening?"

"They've been waiting for you," Hal said. "Just enjoy it. Dancing and drinks. And better food than either of us have had since France."

Imogen still felt unsure as crowds of people rushed around. Some brought out food, others cooked, one man grabbed a fiddle, and many people gathered in the center, starting to dance. Hal sat beside Imogen, clapping. Harper sat on his other side, leaning her head on his shoulder. Imogen joined him in the rhythm. The bright colors of the clothing everyone wore became beautiful blurs in the firelight and Imogen found herself smiling as the music picked up speed.

The revelry had been going on for the better part of an hour when Hal stood in front of Imogen, holding out his hand. She froze. "Oh no, I don't know how to dance," Imogen said. Everyone here seemed to know the steps. It wasn't the same as when James grabbed onto her, swaying back and forth to soft, slow music. This was real dancing.

"Come on, I'll show you," Hal said. For the first time since she met him, Hal had a genuine smile. His hand was still outstretched. Imogen took in and held a breath, glancing around. Hal changed tactics, reaching in and putting a hand on either side of Imogen's waist, pulling her up towards him and onto her feet. "You don't want to be a dull guest of honor, do you?"

Imogen steadied herself as he grabbed one of her hands in his, wrapping the other around her back. Slowly, he took the steps and Imogen watched their feet move in a pattern. As they repeated the same steps over and over, Hal sped them up. When Imogen started to get it, he took the hand from her waist for a moment, lifting Imogen's chin so she was looking at him. He replaced his hand and took them up to tempo, through the crowds.

The cheering, the music, the whooping of those around them lifted Imogen's spirits. She found the family she had come from. She was among people that were her own. She belonged to them, no matter what else happened. Hal's leading seemed to solidify this as he spun her, twirled her, then stopped her abruptly at the last notes of the music. He was looking right into her eyes. The smile was still there on his lips, but it was the kind of tense smile that spoke to something causing restraint. James's face flashed in her mind. He would be laughing and pulling her into him without a moment's thought. Imogen pulled back as Hal dropped his arms. They both applauded the fiddlers.

A woman pushed plates into both their hands as they returned to where Harper sat. "Are you a caller as well?" Imogen asked her.

Harper had sea green eyes that were large, round, and sweet. She looked to Hal, then turned back. "Yes," she answered."Sort of. But my calls were violet instead of green."

"Hal's been teaching me about that," Imogen said.

Hal handed his bread to Harper, then picked up a roasted turkey leg. "She was an idiot when I met her," Hal said.

Imogen scowled at him. There was a little more of a teasing in his tone here among the Gypsies, but he was equally condescending. Harper seemed entertained, laughing. "I wasn't an idiot," she snapped, then turned back to Harper. "I didn't know I was a Gypsy, actually."

"How did you not know?" Harper asked. Hal shook his head and Harper caught his eye. "Sorry. Hal always says I ask bad questions."

"No, it's not a bad question at all," Imogen said. "Just a complicated answer."

"I'll tell you later," Hal promised. Imogen didn't know how she felt about Hal summing up the things she told him to his sister, but she didn't argue, focusing on the food in front of her instead.

Hal hadn't lied. She'd either forgotten what good food was, or this was the best meal she'd ever had. When Imogen was almost done, someone else came by with another full plate, swapping it with Imogen's empty one. "They probably think you're too skinny," Harper said. "That's what they say about me all the time."

Harper certainly looked delicate. She was taller than Imogen—almost as tall as her brother, in fact—but just as thin. Most of the women here weren't excessively fat, but they all had a decent amount of padding on their bodies. As the night became cool, Imogen wondered if it helped. Even though it was the middle of the summer, the evening breeze made her shiver. Harper must have felt the chill too, because Hal took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

It was quite late when Sabina walked into the center of the crowds, raising her hands for everyone to settle down. The music stopped, quiet fell, and she looked at Imogen. "Come," Sabina said. "Zair is much to say before ze night ends."

Imogen set aside the second plate, placing it on the log beside her. She stood, picking up her satchel and laying it across her shoulder. Her heart pounded. She looked over to Hal. He stood as well, looking down at Harper with a single finger raised. He placed a hand on the middle of Imogen's back and they followed Sabina as she lead the way into the dark of night, back to the wagon she'd come out of.

When they stepped inside, the room was far larger than Imogen thought it would be. Rather than the layout of a cottage, though, there was one massive circular table with ten chairs around it. The floors were a dark wood and torches in each corner lit the room. There was a single ladder that lead to a loft-like space, though the area above was encased by wooden walls and a door with a black knob and keyhole. Coming in behind Hal and Imogen was the man who had held her, the other two that were with him in the woods, and the woman who had given them food.

Now that she had a moment to see her, Imogen was surprised to see just how beautiful the woman was. She was probably in her late twenties with a face that was soft, though defined. Her wide eyes were a piercing blue, lined with long, dark lashes and her hair waved down her back in a deep, alluring auburn color. Her body was shapely, emphasized by a corset and shawl that draped across her waist and demurely over her hips. She moved around the room fluidly, grabbing glasses from cupboards for each of them as they sat, filling them with amber liquid.

"Does Hal need to be here?" the gruff man asked.

"He has proven himself," Sabina snapped.

Hal leaned back, glaring at the man. But he didn't seem worried about Hal anymore, focusing on the drink in front of him, finishing it off quickly and raising it for the auburn haired woman to refill.

"Zen perhaps ze boy should give introductions," one of the others said. It was a middle aged man, thin as a rail. He took off his hat, revealing that the top of his head was entirely bald, though long, mousy brown hair ringed his scalp. He hung the hat, with a wide, floppy brim on the edge of his chair.

Hal sat forward. "That's Mihails," he pointed toward the bald man. "You know Sabina already, then Juris—" the second strange man, more fit than the others and well groomed, nodded. Even his clothes were less varied than everyone else's. Next Hal pointed to the woman. "—over there is Valda. She's a brilliant cook." Valda turned to Hal, winking at him. "And last is Tibor."

"Jus' call me Papa, Hal," Tibor said with a heavy laugh. Hal glared at him again, though no one seemed to notice or care.

Imogen looked at Tibor trying to find some resemblance to Hal. They both had raven black hair, but aside from this they could not have seemed more different. She didn't know if it was in part because Tibor wore a thick beard or that he was obviously drunk and still topping off, whereas Hal sat among the group somberly, but Imogen couldn't imagine how they came from the same stock, let alone being father and son.

"So," Imogen said, pulling her attention away from the strange dynamic. "Why were you looking for me?"

Sabina looked at her intently for a while before answering. "For ze same reason you vere looking for us," she said. "Zis is vhere you belong, child."

Imogen licked her lips. "My father was from here?"

Sabina nodded, but it was Juris who expounded. "He grew up in the colony vith his family. Our colony had long held one of each gift in our clan. Sabina is our seer, and has been for very long time. Your father vould have been a leader here, but he vas taken very young."

"Taken?" Imogen asked. The compound had been filled with runaways and orphans. Godfrey had picked these types because they were easy to control, didn't know enough magic most of the time to combat the Imperius Curse, and because their disappearances were often attributed to other complications. "I thought Gypsies had their own protection spells," she added, turning to Hal.

"Ve do," Tibor's voice boomed. "He vas lured by a Frederick Dahl."

Imogen's face felt warm when he said that. Dahl was the only surname she knew coming out of the compound. No birth record had ever been found for her, but that was the name she remembered. "But… that's…"

"Dahl vas a slippery man," Sabina said. Disdain dripped in her tone. "He spoke vith your father and convinced him to leave vith him to Germany. Ve did not see your father after dis."

"How old was he?" Imogen asked.

"Eleven," Sabina answered.

Imogen looked around at the others. "What is my last name then?"

"Gramae," Valda answered, taking a seat with her own glass. Hal's head jerked towards her immediately. "Yes, Hal. Zey vere brother and sister."

Imogen looked at him. "Who?"

"My mum and your dad," he said, still looking at Valda with a level of shock.

"We're… cousins?"

"Apparently," Hal said, looking over to Imogen. He had that odd look that she still didn't understand.

"Most Gypsies are related, of course," Sabina added. "But yes, you are ze one ve have been vaiting for."

Imogen had never imagined that if she had known family—any family—that they would irritate her quite as much as Hal did.

"Our grandparents each had one of the gifts, then," Imogen said to Hal. One of them must have been a caller, the other a caster. "Are they still alive?" she added to the others.

"No," Hal answered on their behalf. "They died ages ago."

Imogen swallowed. Was Hal all she had? Him and Tibor, who had first been harsh and violent towards her? No, she had Harper, too. Even without having spoken much to her, Imogen liked her better than Hal. Cousins—her and Harper.

"I still don't understand why you've been waiting for us," Imogen said. "For me."

A few of them exchanged glances at this question. Sabina continued to look at Imogen, even as she stood, walking around the table and taking the empty chair on Imogen's left. Though Sabina looked frail, she reached out, turning Imogen's chair so they faced one another. Her eyes seemed to search deep into Imogen as Sabina grabbed her right hand. Imogen looked down at their hands, her own sandwiched between Sabina's warm touch. The old woman's skin was thin, veins prominent. She spread Imogen's fingers and laid her palm underneath Imogen's. Sabina's other hand ran over Imogen's again and again.

"Look at me," Sabina instructed. Imogen looked up to find those foggy eyes staring into hers. "You do not understand vat you are. You have much inside you that ze vizards and vitches you have known have suppressed."

Imogen had the urge to counter this claim. Ginny tried to get her to stop using her wandless magic at one point, but it was under the impression that Imogen would lose it as other witches did. When she realized this was beyond the normal wandless magic of children, Ginny encouraged Imogen to use both wand and wandless magic. She wrote to McGonagall, who was trying to help Imogen all last year. But then, Imogen had never been in the habit of being contrary, even if she felt differently from what was being said. Besides, Sabina's voice was captivating. Imogen had the sense that she would know herself better than ever before if she just listened.

"A vell of power lives inside you," Sabina said. She tilted her head and her hand stopped moving. "Ze boy, ze one you love, he may give you great strength, but he vill also be a great veakness to you." Imogen flushed as she spoke of James. She hadn't talked to anyone about him since she'd sat with Lily the night before she left. "You have a destiny, child. A destiny to bring strength back to the clan. Use your gift. Learn your gift. Ve vill help you, ze vay no one else vill. Vill you stay? Vill you return to your home?"

For a moment Ginny came to mind. The feel of Ginny's arm around her as they sat on Imogen's bed at home. An encouraging squeeze she gave Imogen before she left to Hogwarts. Even the day Ginny sat her down, talking about her coming to live with them. Imogen had buried herself in Ginny's hug that day, the uncertainty she had felt was over. She could go see them at some point, though. She had to know what Sabina knew. Imogen needed know what and who she was. She nodded.

"Good," Sabina said, her eyes eager and excited.

There was a knock at the door. "James, can you get that," Harry said. A direction rather than a request. His parents, Albus, and him had spent the whole evening sorting through papers from Australia and talking over maps. Fleur had a cousin working in France who had tipped them off to a fence that had been broken into using magic. It was a muggle area of Paris and lead to freight trains. Sketches from James's description of Imogen at Gringotts were put up and two of Harry's employees volunteered to monitor the situation.

When James opened the door they were both there. "Hey, James," William Broker said, reaching out a hand to do a handshake he'd taught James. He was in his early thirties with dark brown hair and a full beard.

The woman behind him, Janelle Carver, had sandy blonde hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She was generally unassuming, though James knew she wasn't to be underestimated. As a muggleborn, her father was a karate instructor and she was fully trained by him. Two years before, when she had first joined the department, James kept trying to get her to show him this at a dinner his dad had for his employees. When she finally agreed, James had been flipped onto the grass on his back, completely winded faster than he knew what was happening. Albus thought it was hilarious.

"How are you?" Janelle asked, leaning in and giving him a hug.

"Been better," James replied.

Broker was in the kitchen greeting Albus as Lily ran out of her room. "Janelle!" she yelled. She stuffed something into her pocket and threw her arms around Janelle.

"What have you been up to, Silly Lily?" she asked.

James shot Lily his new customary scowl and walked into the kitchen.

"...the dates are all listed, but there isn't information otherwise," Albus told Broker, showing him the birth records.

"Huh," he said, rubbing at his chin. "You have all the business documents you said?"

"Yes, but Imogen wouldn't show up in those," Ginny replied. "And he never recorded the names of those he brought in."

"But you're narrowing down who her mum is right? So take a back door. He probably kept contacts of those he was paying off to send him kids and her mother's from Britain. Look for Brits in his employ during a certain year span. Do you have an average age Godfrey would pair them off in the compound?"

"No, but we can venture a guess," Ginny said. "Anywhere between fifteen and twenty."

Broker grabbed a chair, turning it backwards and sitting. "Give it a couple year buffer, but your end date would be a year or so before Imogen's birth, starting twenty years before that. Still a bit wide where parameters are concerned, but better than nothing."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Albus said, setting down the file in his hand. He started pulling out new folders from another box.

Janelle and Lily came into the doorway, each with an arm around the other. "Can we get you something to drink?" Harry offered.

"No, we just came to give you an update," Janelle said.

They all realized this was the likely reason these two came over. Even though they turned down drinks, Ginny busied herself, flitting around the kitchen anxiously. James bit his bottom lip. Lily looked at Janelle, her eyes wide while Albus leaned against the table. James felt his stomach churn as Broker pulled something from a pocket, setting it in front of him.

Harry reached out, grabbing the vial full of silvery substance.

"An Irish muggle girl answered the posters," Janelle said. "Most likely wanted the reward money. Gave her extra in exchange for that. Plus whatever muggle money I had from family vacation last month in my wallet. She looked like she could use a few decent meals."

"And the French were okay with that?" Harry asked.

"Fleur's cousin talked to a couple people. Good contact, actually," Broker said.

Ginny walked out of the kitchen quickly.

"Imogen and someone else from their crew left together," Janelle explained. "Unfortunately they didn't have any other information about the next location, but she did say Imogen mentioned Belarus."

James looked to his dad, hoping Belarus meant something to him. Unfortunately, Harry was looking right back with a raised eyebrow, obviously looking for James himself to know. James shrugged. "Great work, thanks," Harry said to Broker and Janelle.

Ginny came back, holding the wooden pensieve she bought in Australia. "Stick around for a while," Ginny said. "I can bring out some leftovers in a minute."

"I have plans tonight actually," Janelle said. Broker mouthed She has a date in an obvious way. Janelle gave him a playful punch on his shoulder.

"I'll stay. Al and me can figure out what scum was selling kids to Godfrey," he said cheerfully.

James stepped by Ginny as she poured the memory into the pensieve. Lily followed Janelle into the living room, seeing her out. "Can I see?" James asked.

"Sure," Ginny replied. She was still staring into the memory, but reached out and grabbed his hand, taking a steeling breath and squeezing tightly. The two of them entered the memory together.

They were in a forested area. Half a dozen teens lounged around and Imogen—with her short, brown hair and altered appearance—came through some trees right behind a tall stranger. He was a couple inches taller than James and had hair just as dark, though his was slicked down. James felt his blood pumping harder as he told the others that him and Imogen were going to head out. "Catch you later then, Hal," a dark skinned boy said with nod of his head. The Irish girl was saying a couple last words to Imogen.

"Come on, Snow White," Hal said to Imogen, then turned to go. Imogen took a breath and started walking after him.

The rest of the group sat where they were. James let go of Ginny's hand, trying to follow Hal and Imogen through the woods. He needed to know more. Imogen was barely in view when the space around them dissolved and he found himself standing beside his mother in the kitchen. Albus and Broker were talking over some document and James's parents were both looking at him. He turned on his heel and headed back to his room. Lily sat alone on the couch, looking at herself in that mirror again. When he got into his room, James paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair.

"James," Ginny said, stepping into his room. "What is this about?"

"She replaced me," he said, crossing his room again.

Ginny grabbed his arm, stopping him. "What in that memory makes you think that?"

James stopped, trying to think of how to answer her. "Because she... Imogen was... she was going off with him alone."

"Since when does any association with another male mean Imogen has intention to date them? First Lorcan, now someone that, from what we actually saw, may be a travelling companion. There's no reason to think he's anything besides that, at this point. Not to mention, the last time you said anything to her you broke things off."

James sunk onto his bed. "I didn't mean it!"

Ginny sat beside him, shrugging. "That's one of the things about words, James. They aren't always so easy to undo."

"I just want things how they were."

"You don't understand, love. They'll never be the way they were again. You can't just sweep in, bring her home, and pretend nothing happened between you."

"Yeah, well I know you and Dad think she won't forgive me," he muttered.

Ginny sighed, reached over and put a hand on his back. "We don't think any such thing. We don't know what will happen, but regardless things are different. Imogen still has two years of school, James. She will be spending lots of time with other students, about half of which are boys. How is that going to play out with this sudden tendency for jealousy you've developed?"

James wiped at his face.

"James... I need you to understand something. Imogen is part of this family whether or not you date her. And you are both old enough to sort through things without your dad and me. I know it gets complicated, but," she stopped, letting out a breath,"do you think you could figure out how to not get worked up when Imogen has a life outside of you?"

Shut up more, let her have a life outside of him, stop being jealous… James hadn't realized that he'd become such a bad boyfriend. He nodded.

"Now I want your help," Ginny said, standing. "Let's look at that memory again and see if we can figure out where Imogen was going with Hal."

A/N: Hello all! Please excuse a quick interruption. I was recently listening to an audiobook where a song was written, so the narrator had a version they sang. I figured… it might be fun to share an audio bonus of how I imagine/hear the song as I'm writing it! (It will be coming into play again very soon!) So… if it's something you're interested you can enter this link:

sound cloud dot com /user-825800998/ gypsy-child-in-the-meadow

(Sorry it will have to be fixed up a little). Probably easier, you can go into Soundcloud and find me (user name also Sarcasma) or the song (Gypsy Child- In the Meadow).

Also, I have missed a few of my regular reviewers and know that there are generally more people reading than drop a line! I would love to hear what you're thinking at this point in the story!