"Who's looking for you?" Asriel asked in that common room that evening, when Frisk told her sibling about what Professor McGonagall had told her in class.

"The Macintoshes," Frisk explained. "They were one of my foster families, before I fell I mean. Before your parents adopted me. They were the ones I liked the best." Frisk sighed. "They were one of a very few, before Mom, that made me feel like I was one of the family. It's.." Frisk stopped, feeling somewhat sad and embarrassed.

"Go on," pressed Asriel.

"No... I... I think I get it," Chara said softly.

"It's one of the reasons I climbed Mt. Ebott," Frisk said. "Because I didn't have a family. I didn't have a home. Not like I do now. I sent letters to the Macintoshes every so often. I wasn't supposed to, but I did anyway. That's how they knew where to send letters back. Sometimes I got them, sometimes I didn't. The last family threw them all away, I was pretty sure that they..." Frisk trailed off. "That doesn't matter anymore."

"What were..." began Asriel.

"You're right," said Chara, over their brother, who's eyes went wide for a second. "It doesn't matter anymore. You're with us now. That's not going to change. You don't need us to promise that, because you know. But I promise that anyway."

"Thank you," Frisk said with half-lidded eyes.

The conversation drifted to what the minister possibly could be planning, or why they would need Frisk at all, but there was nothing that felt like a really good idea. So, come Saturday, when Chara and Asriel headed down for yet another quidditch practice, Frisk turned off the grand staircase at the second floor, and headed for the statutory corridor that contained the headmaster's office.

Frisk stared at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance for a little bit before mustering up the courage to give it the password of "Chocolate Frogs". The gargoyle nodded to her before leaping aside, revealing the spiral staircase. She climbed up the staircase, but stopped at the oaken door at the top. She could hear raised voices on the other side.

"Ah-hem! Why are we doing this?" came a voice that Frisk recognized immediately as Ms. Umbridge. "It has the serious possibility of turning into a breach of magical secrecy. And would we treat any other child this way? If she wasn't the adopted daughter of the Monster monarchy, there is no way you would be treating her this way."

"Dolores," said a tired sounding voice on the other side.

It took her a second to place where she'd heard it before. Then it occurred that she was hearing Minister Fudge himself. She'd last heard him at the awarding of the Order of Merlin to her parents, at the same time it was announced publicly that Asriel would be allowed to attend Hogwarts.

"Dolores," he repeated. "We cannot modify the memory of every single person who took a copy of the multiple muggle newspapers and might have seen Frisk reported as a missing child. There's too much of a risk there. And when you factor in what's going on with the muggle child, her step-brother, it is the compassionate thing to do. This cannot wait."

Frisk wasn't able to wait either, she knocked on the wooden door, and the conversation came to a quick halt. "Coming!" said a third voice, and a few seconds later, Frisk found herself face to face with Professor Sprout. "Come in," she said, smiling at Frisk. But one look at Frisk's face, and the smile abruptly vanished. "Oh, did you hear that?" she asked.

Frisk nodded, she stepped into the headmaster's office. The sound of the headmasters snoring in their portraits permeated the room. The office was relatively crowded, with Professors McGonagall and Sprout, as well as Ms. Umbridge and Minister Fudge. The phoenix, Fawkes, sat on his perch, watching the gathering silently. The one person who wasn't there was the Headmaster himself. This might have caught Frisk's attention further if she hadn't been so focused on what Professor Sprout had said. "Yes, professor," she said quietly, feeling her heart make her way up into her throat.

"Not yet," Minister Fudge said. "We still have one more coming, I apologize, Ms. Dreemur, I do have another appointment this afternoon, so if you could just be patient while we have..." and he was interrupted by someone else knocking on the door. "That makes it easy, Pomona? Would you get the door again, please?"

Professor Sprout nodded, and went back to the door. Frisk looked up in curiosity as... "Opal?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, Ms. Oxtoby. Come in, please, and let's all take a seat," the minister began. He began to pace while the others sat down. "The ministry actually needs your family's help for a... delicate situation." He paused, looking around the room for a moment, his eyes settling on Professor McGonagall. "You know, It might be better coming from you, you're her head of house, after all."

The professor gave a single curt nod, and turned to Frisk. "We don't know everything," she began. "But as the ministry believes, from their research, your former foster family, the Macintoshes, have come looking for you because of the sickness of their son."

"Tony," Frisk said quietly. She looked up at Madam McGonagall. She was keeping a poker face, but it had cracks, especially around the eyes. The cracks only got wider as the transfiguration professor told her about Tony having the muggle disease leukemia and that... "He won't survive the year?" Frisk repeated, her voice very small. She could feel her tears begin to trickle down her face. Tony wasn't even older than her. This... this wasn't fair.

"Frisk..." Opal said softly, reaching out to place her hand on her friend's.

"That is what we've learned," Madam Sprout said, lowering her head. "I'm very sorry, Frisk."

Frisk opened her mouth, but no words came. She looked at the room. Both professors McGonagall and Sprout seemed to be barely holding back tears, and Opal was failing even that. Even the minister had a sorrowful look to his eyes, though his face remained impassive. Ms. Umbridge, on the other hand, just looked irritated.

"Yes, quite," the minister said, clearing his throat. "But that brings us to the reason I'm here today. We would like to give you, Ms. Dreemurr, the chance to see him before anything happens. That is why Ms. Oxtoby is with us today."

Frisk and Opal exchanged blank looks.

"The only people who knew that the Dreemurs adopted you were the Macintoshes themselves," Minister Fudge told them, "It will be easy enough to modify their memory so they believe you were adopted by the Oxtobys. Then, next weekend, when the majority of the students are allowed to go into Hogsmeade, you both will be allowed to go to the Oxtoby residence, and meet the Macintoshes there. You'll have the weekend to be together, and come back to the castle on Sunday night." His gaze "You will have to pretend to be Opal's sister. The existence of monsters is, of course, subject to the statute of secrecy. But that's a small price to pay, isn't it?" the Minister smiled at her. "It gives you the opportunity to see your foster brother. And Ms. Oxtoby? That is okay with you, right?"

"It is, minister," Opal said. "I'm happy to help."

"Good! I'm glad to hear that, your parents have already been contacted and they are ready to go with this plan as well." The minister absently picked up his bowler hat, spinning it in his hands. We will set up arrangements with the Knight Bus to pick you up on the day in question. When we have the specific details, we will be back in contact with you." He gave a nod of finality, as if this finished everything. "Does anyone have anything they'd like to add?" He waited, looking through the assembled professors, but they all shook their heads negatively.

"Very well then," he placed his bowler hat firmly on his head. "Dolores, we need to discuss that other thing we have, but we can do that in your office in private, and give the headmaster his own back. Where is he, anyway?"

"I believe he is in a discussion with Firenzie at the moment," Professor McGonagall said. "Something about a creature in the dark forest bothering the Thestrals."
Was it Frisk's imagination, or did an even darker look cross Ms. Umbridge's face at that moment? If she didn't imagine it, it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "Very well, minister, after you," Ms. Umbridge said. With a near blindingly bright smile at Frisk and Opal, Ms. Umbridge passed through the door that led out of the headmaster's office.

It was very much not Frisk's imagination that three dark looks followed Ms. Umbridge down the stairs. It was only when they were truly gone that Fawkes gave a soft cry, winging his way onto Dumbledore's desk, staring into Frisk's eyes.

Frisk stared back, and began to sob.

While the two teachers didn't say anything, they didn't leave either. Opal continued to sit as well, not saying anything, perhaps not knowing what to say. Fawkes rubbed his warm head against her cheek, but nothing really helped. She was like that for several minutes before she finally calmed down enough to look up again. "Thanks for staying," she whispered.

"We are here for you," Ms. McGonagall said. "You know where my office is if ever you need to talk, Frisk. And I'm sure Madam Sprout would tell you the same."

"And I'm here as well," Opal told her.

Madam Sprout herself didn't say anything, but instead put a chocolate bar in front of both Frisk and Opal. "By suggestion of Madam Pomfrey, which I know from a long association with her," the herbologist told them. "But if there's anything you'd like to talk about..."

"I... don't think I'm hungry right now," Frisk said, though she pocketed the chocolate. "And... I think I'd just like to go... for a walk, I guess. A run, maybe," she said glancing at Opal.

"Let's just walk," Opal said. "Dad says fresh air helps for these kinds of things."

They said goodbye to their professors, and headed down the spiral staircase to the second floor corridor, and from there, eventually, out onto the grounds. Opal led the way toward the lake. They talked about everything from soul magic to the applicability of martial arts in the wizarding world. They talked about anything they could think of that wasn't the elephant on both of their minds.

Eventually, as the sun started to descend into the afternoon, Opal admitted, "I'm sorry Frisk. I have some homework I really need to work on today." She paused, looking at Frisk. "Can we meet at the great hall in a few minutes?"

"How about the library instead?" Frisk asked quietly.

"I'll go down to get my things," Opal said. "It's been one heck of a first two weeks, hasn't it?"

Frisk couldn't help but agree.

The next day brought the news that Ms. Umbridge had been appointed 'High Inquisitor' of Hogwarts. Chara looked at it, and rolled her eyes as her siblings joined her at the notice board. In a weird sort of way, Frisk was glad of it. Not of the announcement itself, she didn't think anything good would come of that, but of the timing. It gave her something to think about and discuss with the others that didn't require her to think about her foster brother.

At breakfast that morning, Asriel was approached by the substitute Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Ms. Grubly-Plank. "Ah," she said, with her somewhat throaty accent. "Asriel Dreemurr? Yes?"

The monster looked up in surprise. "Yes?" he asked.

"I have a letter for you, from Master Dubran in the forbidden forest."

"Oh! I was wondering if Firenze had managed to deliver my letter," Asriel said.

Firenze was a semi-outcast from the Centaur herd, living on the grounds of Hogwarts. Last year, he had gone behind the chief's back to bring the chief's son, Debran, to meet with his friends at the Hogwarts grounds. This didn't win him any favors. Going back and looking for him... well, it didn't let him go back with the herd, but at least it got the death threat lifted.

They'd gone to visit the centaur last week, and Firenzie had promised to let them know when their friend could visit again. "So, what does he say?" Chara asked.

Asriel reached into his pocket for his Swiss army knife, picked an appropriate tool, and cut the letter carefully open. "It's short and to the point," he reported. "Are we free tomorrow, after classes?" He looked back to the letter in surprise. "Why a weeknight?"

"I don't know," Chara said. "But, well, we are. There's no practice for a few days." She looked at Asriel. "I guess that means we really ought to catch up on homework, if we're going to be busy tomorrow."

"That's a good idea," Frisk told them. "Since I couldn't do it yesterday, I'm going to go spend the afternoon with Madam Pomfrey." They worked on homework together in the Great Hall for a while, then after lunch, split off to go their separate ways.

"Oh, hello, Frisk," the matron said as Frisk walked through the open door into the hospital wing."Can you give me a hand please?"

"That's why I'm here," Frisk said, moving to assist her in removing the sheets and blankets from one of the beds. They dumped the dirty linens in a small bucket, and worked to replace it with fresh coverings . "So what else can I help you with today?"

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips for a moment. "Well, I've been running low on numbing potion. Have you learned how to make it?"

Frisk hadn't. It was apparently a potion commonly learned in the fourth year. It wasn't an especially difficult potion, but it was a lengthy one. Filling one of Frisk's long held suspicions, she pulled out a recipe book, placed it on a window sill. The healer nodded at her, "Okay, we'll start with a list of ingredients. They should all be in the supply closet."

"Okay," Frisk said, heading over to the closet, finding each ingredient as it was called out. When they were all collected, they set about chopping, mixing, and otherwise premeasuring the ingredients. Only when that was done did Madam Pomfrey start making the potion.

"It starts with the hermit crab shell," the matron told her, "For a sense of homey comfort." She held out a hand, and Frisk handed out the carefully measured powdered shell. Madam Pomfrey set the automatic stirring cauldron going. "And now we wait a bit. So... how was your week Frisk?"

Frisk took a deep breath. She knew the question was coming, but it hadn't made it any easier when it got here. "There was that announcement this morning?" she tried, "about Ms. Umbridge being the new Grand Inquisitor?"

The matron snorted. "If she thinks she's going to get between the headmaster and any of the staff here, she's got another think coming. The headmaster has his foibles, including a complexity addiction a mile wide, but he's a good person. He'll have our backs. I'm not worried about some ministry busybody."

Frisk blinked. Madam Pomfrey had always been direct, but this was something even for her. She contemplated this as she watched the somewhat hypnotic motions of the automatic cauldron stirrer. Until she finally decided there wasn't any sense waiting any longer. "Uhm, Madam Pomfrey? Have..." she swallowed, hard, "Have you ever heard of leukemia?"

"I was warned you would probably ask me that," the healer told Frisk. "And I know it's rare, and a 'cancer'. I mean, I'm not a muggle Doctor, but..." She could tell Frisk it was rare, and that it was mostly curable, these days. But not universally so. "I don't fully understand the idea behind the treatments for it, though," she admitted. "Only that it takes time, and it has to do with intentionally weakening the body in order to attempt to destroy the infection."

"Oh," Frisk said. Her musing was interrupted by a request for mint, for its sweet smell. She searched around the potion ingredients, located the mint, and carefully spread it into the potion as requested.

"Is this," Frisk paused, unsure if she wanted to ask the question, or what she wanted the answer to be. "Is this something magic could cure?"

"I'm not sure about that, either," Madam Pomfrey said with a deep sigh. "It's a long term muggle disease, Frisk. It's not something I would expect to treat here in the hospital wing, I would have to send them down to St. Mungos, who have a wider array of specialist healers."

As both Frisk and the matron were deeply uncomfortable with the situation, the healer changed the subject, instead inquiring about Frisk's first few weeks back at classes, her siblings making the Quidditch team, if as backups, and what she did over the summer.

Of course, this brought up the fact that dementors had come for her and her siblings.

It really had been a rough month or so.

"It's okay, Frisk," Madam Pomfrey said with a wry smile. "It's bound to be better next month. This too shall pass, so to speak."