Beta love to CarbConnoisseur.
"Janet! Janet!" Janet McGonagall's head shot up at the sound of her husband's frantic call. She'd never heard him sound so agitated. And was he… running?
"Robert?" she queried as he finally came into view, looking breathless.
"Catriona's alive!" he blurted.
"I'm… what?" she froze, sure she must have misheard.
Taking a deep breath, he attempted to calm himself down, noting her pallor. "Catriona… Catriona is alive."
"How?" Janet gasped, her mind whirling.
"It's… We need to sign some unspeakable paperwork, but… God's Janet, she's here and she… Merlin, she looks like Ailsa."
"She's where?" Janet demanded, gathering herself.
"With Alastor."
He knew?" she all but screeched.
Robert grimaced. "Yes. It's… complicated. Can we arrange for everyone else to head to Alastors? It'd be best to get this over with and then we can discuss how we're going to murder Minnie for not fucking telling us."
"Min knew?" his wife hissed, her face thunderous.
"For over three months," he admitted.
"Rab? What in the name of Circe is going on?"
"Let's pick up the rest of them and then we'll talk."
"The rest of…" she trailed off helplessly, aware she wasn't following the thread of her husband's conversation anywhere near as quickly as she should.
"Malcolm, Elspeth, and the kids. Oh and Isobel. Although the thought of those two in the room together is terrifying. The lass has Alastor by the bollocks."
Janet snorted. "She can't be that bad."
"He informed me she's more stubborn than my mother," Robert admitted. "And having spent a wee bit of time with her, I understand why he's wary."
"Mother of Morganna," she muttered. "Right, Malcolm first?"
Twenty minutes later, the bewildered McGonagall clan flooed into Alastor's house. "Well? Where is she?" Janet demanded.
"Where is who, Janet?" Isobel McGonagall ground out, looking more than a little put out at being dragged from her house with no explanation.
"I assume you're looking for me?" a hesitant voice sounded from a doorway further up the hall.
Janet felt like the bottom had fallen out of her world as a girl who looked painfully like her daughter watched them with wary eyes. Hearing the swell of noise that coincided with the girl's appearance, she realised she couldn't decipher the words over the sound of someone sobbing. It wasn't until she felt Robert wrap his arms around her that she realised that the person sobbing was her.
"My God. Ailsa?" Isobel turned to look at her youngest son, bewildered.
"Catriona," he murmured, attempting to soothe his wife.
"Cat… Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Where have you been lassie?"
Hermione grimaced. "It's rather a long story. Perhaps….."
Alastor rolled his eyes. "Come and sit down the lot of you, and we'll explain."
"I swear to God, Alastor Moody, if you've known where the lass was all this time…"
Alastor held up his hands placatingly, cutting Isobel off. "I've known for just over three months. And I didn't get in touch because we were giving the lass some time to get her head around it all. We will explain."
"See that you do," Isobel bit out, sitting down primly on one of the sofas. "Well?"
"You need to sign these." Alastor pushed Saul's parchment towards her, holding eye contact, refusing to back down from her stare.
"I need to sign what?" Isobel demanded, crossing her arms over her chest in a move that almost made Alastor laugh as it hit him his daughter did the same when she was feeling unsure but hiding it.
"It's an Unspeakable contract. We can't tell you anything unless you do."
The entire room went still. "Why would we need to sign an unspeakable contract?" Malcolm asked with an edge to his voice.
"Because if you don't and word gets out to someone it shouldn't, I imagine my death will be a mercy I'm made to beg for," Hermione shot back, feeling only slightly guilty at the look that passed over her family's faces.
"What are you involved in, lassie?" her great-grandmother whispered, finally switching her stare from Alastor to the stiff looking girl sat next to him.
"Nothing I chose voluntarily," she murmured wryly, fighting against the instinct to go to the woman. If nothing else, meeting her grandfather had prepared her for the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her now she was faced with more than one member of the Ross line.
"So we sign this contract and you'll tell us everything?" a man who looked barely into his thirties asked. Callum, she assumed or, what was the other one called? Scott. He was called Scott.
"Most of it," she agreed.
"Right, then," he nodded, wondering what on earth was coming. "Where's the contract?"
"Here, lad," Alastor handed one over. Slowly, most with clear reluctance, the McGonagall's signed the contracts, passing them back with a look of distrust on their faces.
"Now then. Start talking," Isobel commanded the minute Alastor held the last one in his hand.
Hermione bit back a smile and inclined her head. She understood now how her Head of House was so formidable. With this woman as her role model, how could she be anything else?
Several stunned faces stared back at her once she'd finished giving them the bare minimum of information about her life. "Mother of Merlin," Janet muttered, her hand clutching Hermione's tightly, having moved sometime around the beginning of Hermione explaining Voldemort's resurrection. "I don't know whether I want to resurrect your mother so I can hug her or hex her."
Isobel scoffed. "Why can't it be both?" she retorted. "Now, what's your plan?"
Hermione blinked. "It's… nothing is concrete. Aunt Minerva suggested I get my NEWTs before I plot murder. It seems like… sound advice."
Isobel snorted. "Aye perhaps. But are ye tellin' me ye cannae multitask, lassie?"
Hermione's jaw dropped slightly before she laughed. "Fine. I'm sitting my NEWT's, learning to duel, and building some bridges that need to be built in order to either help get things moving or save some people."
"That sounds more like it," the woman nodded approvingly. "Who are you building bridges with?"
"Oh, the Potters, to keep them safe. Some of their friends for the same reason. Severus Snape because he… deserved better than he got and he is potentially a link to Regulus Black, who also deserved better, but who I could do with being onside. I have a meeting with Saul Croaker and Uncle Charlus on Monday where I intend to discuss the basilisk and the removal of the diadem." She turned to Alastor suddenly. "Is a raid possible?"
"On?" he asked, arching a brow.
"Malfoy manor if we can't convince Narcissa."
"Ah… probably," he shrugged. "I'm known for being paranoid but getting results. And Minchum isn't in Abraxas' pockets too deeply."
She hummed. "It's an option then. Be sure to check under the drawing room floor.
Alastor blinked back at her for several seconds. "Right. The locket is the only one you're not sure of?"
Hermione grimaced. "Yes. I'd prefer Regulus not to be marked if we can avoid it, but Merlin knows who he'd give it to without him. It… complicates things, but I don't like the thought of using him, nor do I like the idea of waiting for another two years."
"Saul might have something," Alastor suggested. "I know he was looking into it."
"Yes, he mentioned seeing if he could modify a summoning spell of sorts," she agreed. "It would make life much easier to be honest. And has the added bonus of not destroying priceless artefacts."
"True enough, but something needs to be done about his followers."
"Yes," she sighed. "Too many got away with the imperius as a defence."
"Money talks," Isobel shrugged.
"I know, but it shouldn't!"
"No," she agreed. "But it does."
Hermione sighed. "Then we need to figure out how to make it so it doesn't."
"Good luck with that," Malcolm murmured, not entirely sure what to make of his niece. She was nothing like any teenager he'd ever met.
"Perhaps some research into the mark," she mused to herself. "I wonder if it takes if you're not willing?"
Several of her family members paused, frowning. "How would you go about researching that?" Callum asked slowly.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "Saul might have ideas. But… if we could figure out the incantation… and… practice on something."
"Work out the incantation… practice…." her cousin looked at her in horrified fascination, torn between being impressed with the tiny witch and utterly terrified at how matter of fact she was about topics that were beyond comprehension.
"I wonder if it's a variation on the spell used to cast the mark into the sky," she mused, oblivious to the looks she was getting.
"Hermione, how in the name of Merlin would you know the incantation to cast the Dark Mark?" Alastor barked.
Hermione's head snapped up to look at her father before blushing as she realised everyone was staring at her. "I ah… we overheard a follower cast it at the world cup," she muttered.
"Of course you did," Alastor responded faintly. "Why were you so damn close to a Death Eater?"
"That time? He was invisible and ah… hiding from his house elf after he had broken free of the imperius his father had him under so technically we didn't know we were next to him. It just… sort of happened."
"I beg your pardon?" Janet demanded. "What in the name of Merlin have you been up to lassie?"
She grimaced. "You probably don't want to know."
"I most certainly do!" Isobel retorted, cutting over whatever her daughter-in-law was going to say.
"Can't we just leave it as my life was eventful and not always in a good way?" she begged.
"No," Her great-grandmother pinned her with a look. "Start talking. Now. You clearly missed out more than you should have when you were telling us about your life."
Hermione sighed. "What do you want to know?"
"Who was the Death Eater?" Alastor asked.
"Barty Crouch Jr. His father helped smuggle him out of Azkaban."
"Barty… Mother of Morganna." Alastor cursed, "Is he a Death Eater now?"
"I don't know! How old is he?"
"He's… fifth year?" Alastor frowned. "I think Barty mentioned him taking his OWL's this year."
"Then no. Not yet.
"Who else do we need to be aware of?"
"Malfoy, Nott, Rowle, Dolohov, the Blacks, the Rosiers, oh, Rookwood in the Department of Mysteries."
"Rookwood?" Alastor asked, horrified. "Augustus Rookwood?"
"Yes," she grimaced, "Sorry."
"I'll speak to Saul," Alastor sighed, scrubbing his had over his face.
She hummed in response. "Ah, the Lestranges, Crabbes, Goyles, and Parkinson's. There are loads more, but I have no idea what ages any of them are."
"Right, at some point soon, I want a damn list."
"Surely you have some idea. Isn't the Order watching them?"
Alastor grimaced. "As I'm sure you've been told, lass, the Order is more… defensive than offensive and they wear those damn masks."
She hummed. "We really need to do something about that."
"We don't need to do anything. Merlin lassie, are you even of age?" Janet exclaimed.
"Yes," Hermione responded stiffly. "And my participation is not up for debate."
"But…"
"No! This war cost me everything. I'm not sitting around waiting on it to do it again!"
"But what if you die!" Janet screeched back.
"Then so be it!" she declared, feeling a moment of guilt at the look on her grandmother's face. "I cannot watch history play out as it did," she finished softly. "Too many people died."
"But surely you've done enough?" Janet begged.
"If I don't do it, who will? In my time a baby stopped him temporarily and then three teenagers were left to try and finish the job. I assume I don't need to remind you that we failed. It can't happen again."
Robert put his hand on his wife's arm and shook his head minutely, taking in the girl's tense posture and the defiant tilt of her chin that was all Ailsa. "Have you spoken to Albus?" Isobel asked, her eyes darting around the room. Everyone was surprised at the look of fury that passed over Hermione's face.
"No," she hissed. "Nor will I be. He is responsible for the mess I'm in and I don't want to be anywhere near his self-serving machinations."
"Self-serving…." Elspeth repeated. "Merlin, lassie, what did he do to you?"
"Used me," she spat. "Used children like fucking pawns. Manipulated things in his favour and allowed the world to burn while keeping his secrets."
All of them flinched at the venom in her voice. "Alright then, no Albus," Isobel agreed faintly, wondering what on Earth the man had done to her great-granddaughter to make her react like that. "Why don't you tell us about you, lass? We've missed several years, after all?"
Visibly reining back her ire, Hermione forced her shoulders to relax as she attempted to do as she was told and get to know her family.
"Hermione," Alastor hedged, sounding so unsure, Hermione actually stopped what she was doing to look at him.
"Yes?"
"Your grandparents want to see you at Christmas." She nodded, not understanding why he was looking so nervous about it, "And your Aunt Dorea also wishes to see you." She nodded again. "How do you feel about having it here? It's the only way to keep them all happy."
"Oh. I… I suppose we could," she replied, frowning. "I don't understand why you're so nervous about it?"
"Ah well, your Aunt Dorea and your great-grandmother can be… challenging in the same room. And of course, there's the issue of your Aunt Minerva."
"What issue?"
"Lass, they're all furious she didn't tell them you were here."
"Ah," Hermione nodded. "I see. That's unfortunate, although I have to assume she had her reasons."
"I'm sure she did, but they're still not pleased about it."
"No," she replied slowly. "You think I can fix that?"
"I think that seeing the way you respond to her might help. It's clear from the way you speak about her that you were close before."
Hermione sighed. "Right then. I'll try, I guess."
"So you're open to them being here?"
"I'm not going to lie and say I'm looking forward to it, but I'm sure I'll survive," she replied dryly.
"I'll let them know then. You're going in to see your Uncle Charlus today?"
"Yes. And Saul. Uncle Charlus all but promised the Prewett twins a duel."
"And that makes you nervous?" he asked, looking at her calculatingly.
"Yes. I… in my time they were known as exceptionally skilled Aurors."
"They are," Alastor agreed. "Although don't bloody tell them I said that. Their ego would never let me live it down."
Hermione laughed. "I'm not as skilled as they are," she voiced bluntly. "I'm good, but I won't have the element of surprise that I had with Kingsley. And we both know I need to be better."
He nodded slowly. "Is this your way of asking me to make your training harder?"
Hermione shrugged. "You're holding back and the Death Eaters won't. I might get lucky once if they underestimate me, but I won't get that reprieve twice. I need to be better, and not just winning because I'm duelling school children and people who make the mistake of underestimating me."
Alastor paled slightly at the thought of her being anywhere near Death Eaters before he nodded. "Very well, lass. I'll make things more challenging. Maybe we should get your Uncle Charlus over, along with Alex. They'll give you a different challenge and you should learn to duel as many opponents as possible so you don't ever get used to one style. Rufus might help."
Hermione hummed. "Thank you," she murmured softly, impulsively reaching for him and wrapping him in a hug. They both pretended that his eyes weren't wet when she let him go.
She exited the floo nervously with Alastor close behind her. "Now, if there's an issue you come and find me, alright?"
"Yes," she nodded with a sigh.
"And if I don't hear otherwise, I expect you in my office at six to go home."
"Yes," she nodded again.
He gave a short nod. "Right then, Croaker first?"
"I think so."
"Off with you then. I assume you know the way?"
"I've been once before," she muttered.
He frowned. "Not a good memory?"
"Not particularly." she swallowed, before straightening her spine, trying to force back the memories of her last visit.
"Right then, let's go." Alastor commanded, reaching for her arm.
"What?" Her head shot up to look at him in surprise, "No! I'll be…"
"Not up for discussion," he glowered at her, "Let's go."
Hermione sighed, taking in the determined look on his face. "Thanks," she whispered as she followed him to lift.
"Now, Croaker usually deals with time, so I suggest we start there," Alastor commanded as the stepped into the entrance of the Department of Mysteries and the room spun around them, making her dizzy. "Time room," he stated clearly, and one of the doors opened.
Hermione's jaw dropped. "It's that easy?"
Alastor looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "What made you think it was difficult?"
"When we broke in we had no idea we just needed to ask for what we were looking for," she muttered petulantly.
Alastor shook his head. "Remind me why exactly you broke in?"
"For Harry's prophecy… or well, because he thought Voldy had Sirius."
"Ah. At fifteen?"
"At fifteen," she agreed with a sigh.
Alastor shook his head exasperatedly. "Right." She followed him through the open door, coming face to face with a room she recognised all too clearly. "It's alright lass, just breathe," Alastor murmured, reaching for her hand and squeezing when he felt her tense next to him. "Whatever happened before, won't happen again."
She nodded mutely, her eyes scanning the room for Saul. "Hermione!" the man shouted, spotting her. "Come and see this!"
"And this is where I leave you. If he's found something that puts that look on his face, you'll be here for the next week waiting for him to stop talking."
Hermione choked on a laugh. "Thanks for…" she trailed off weakly before making a decision. Darting forward, she hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Dad."
Alastor froze for several seconds, forcing his emotions back under his shields before he hugged her so tightly he thought he heard something pop. "Anytime, lass," he whispered into her hair, his voice suspiciously thick. "Now, off you go before someone accuses me of being polyjuiced."
Laughing slightly, Hermione let him go, wandering over to examine Saul's new toy, leaving Alastor watching her for several minutes with a faint smile on his face that terrified the watching unspeakables.
Hermione bounced up the floors to the DMLE, utterly exhilarated having been dragged through the entirety of the Department of Mysteries. It had been fun; Saul was both wonderfully knowledgeable and endlessly entertaining. There had been a minor blip when he had requested both memories of events she felt were important, and then permission to use legilimency to look deeper to see if she remembered anything from the attack but then he had introduced her to several Room Heads and spent over two hours debating the merits of Runes on Timeturners with her. Afterwards he sat her down and engaged in a discussion about potions and spells that were currently theoretical, leaving Hermione with vivid images of her working just there; it had gone a long way to exorcising the ghosts that still haunted her after her last visit. She felt more like herself than she had since she'd crash-landed in the seventies. He'd postponed their discussion on the basilisk and diadem until he had worked out a plan for Dumbledore, but for the first time in her life, Hermione realised she was ok not barreling in headfirst. Despite knowing she was doing very little towards actively ending the war, what she was doing was important and given that they'd also discussed a deadline for beginning the Horcrux hunt, she was content to give Saul time.
"Hermione!" Charlus beamed, cutting off her introspection. "You look… happy."
She smiled slightly. "I've just had a tour of the Department of Mysteries."
Charlus pouted. "Then I'd like you to look less happy," he admitted.
Shaking her head, Hermione laughed at him. "You're ridiculous."
"Is it so wrong to want my goddaughter to come and work for me?" he asked.
"No but… after this morning, you're going to have to do a bit of convincing," she admitted.
"Well, let's see what we can do about that," he murmured. "I believe you promised those redheaded irritants a duel?"
She laughed. "Uncle Charlus, you can't call them that!"
"I can! They are! Don't get me wrong, they're good Aurors, but they do struggle to take anything seriously when they're not in the field. It's irritating!"
Shaking her head, she followed him out the door. "Hermione!" Alastor exclaimed, spotting her.
"We're just here to collect the twins," she admitted. "I promised them a duel."
"So you did," he nodded, before turning to the twins who were watching warily. "Well? What are you waiting for? A written invitation?"
"Right, Boss," Gideon nodded.
"You just want to tie us up, Princess," Fabian grinned. "You only need to ask. No need to go to all this trouble."
"No!" Alastor growled, sending a stinging hex his way.
"Ouch!" Fabian howled as it made its mark. "I was only joking, Boss!"
"Don't," he commanded, glowering at him before turning to his daughter. "You had better beat that one."
"I'll try," she shrugged as she followed the twins out of the room.
Hermione's eyes darted to Charlus as they faced the twins across the duelling room. "Why do I get the impression that this was a horrifically bad idea?" she groaned.
"Probably because it is," Charlus replied with a wink. "The twins are inventive, know each other well, and can anticipate the other's moves. It makes them formidable, and despite their attitude, you would do well not to underestimate them."
"I know," Hermione groaned, her mind casting back to another set of redheaded twins with similar advantages. "Have they beaten you before?"
"Multiple times," Charlus smiled. "Thankfully it's all in good fun and wonderful practice at keeping my skills sharp. Unfortunately for you, they've seen you duel. You won't have the advantage of them underestimating you like Kingsley did."
"I know," Hermione groaned again. "How much is this going to hurt?"
Charlus smiled sympathetically. "We have a full kit of healing potions and salves."
"Great," she muttered, shifting her stance. "Let's get the humiliation over with."
Charlus laughed. "Alright boys, on three."
The duel was as brutal as she had expected it to be. Fabian and Gideon swapped places continuously, moving seamlessly around the other with a fluidity she was truly jealous of. She was almost disappointed that she wasn't able to pause and just watch. All three men were impressive in different ways and she made a mental note to ask Charlus to allow her to observe some duels in the hopes of learning some of their tricks.
Snapping her focus back when a slicing hex landed, cutting her shoulder, she threw herself back into the fight, bearing down on Fabian with single-minded determination, attempting to separate him from his brother. Clearly reading her intention, Charlus rounded on Gideon with a smirk.
Amusement clear on his face, Gideon fought back, determined to beat him. Several minutes later, Fabian was on the ground awkwardly, falling to a well-timed knee reversal hex just before his incarcerous caught her leg, jerking her down beside him. "Stupify," he muttered, "Vicious little witch."
Gideon laughed, catching Charlus a leg locker. "Do you yield?" he demanded.
Joining him in his laughter, Charlus held up his hands. "This time," he agreed, panting. "Merlin, I'm out of shape."
The sound of applause startled them, all three heads jerking sharply to the side as they realised they had an audience. Reviving Hermione, Fabian grimaced as his eyes met Alastor's.
"If you could fix my knees so I can run before your father comes to finish me off I'd be most grateful," he muttered.
Giving a small huff of laughter, Hermione shook her head. "He's more likely to come and finish me off for not beating you," she retorted.
Fabian snorted. "Fair point. Do you think we could take him between us?"
She levelled him with a look. "No," she deadpanned.
He shrugged. "Maybe one day, eh?"
"Maybe."
"Now my knees?"
"Don't you want a healer to reverse them? It'll hurt."
"Like it did when you cast it?" he asked pointedly. "You're fucking vicious."
She grimaced, but shrugged. "You were hardly holding back."
"Well no. The Boss was here! And given the way you took down Kings, we had something to prove."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione aimed her wand. "I only beat Kings because he underestimated me. We both know I'm nowhere near your level of training."
Letting out a sharp yelp of pain as Hermione reversed her hex, Fabin looked at her shrewdly. "You could be."
"What?"
"I know Moody's training you. But if you want another style or two, you could be. The fact that you know that you only beat Kings with luck definitely helps. Most people would get cocky, especially as Alex says you run rings around him and James' class."
Hermione waved her hand in dismissal. "Alex holds back with me. I don't think he realises it, but he does. I'm still better, but not as good as it seemed I was in that class. And James' class is full of schoolchildren. Some powerful school children, Snape nearly had me beaten, but still school children with no practical experience outside the classroom or their families' duelling practice."
Fabian hummed, bending his sore knees to test them before helping her up. "See, knowing your strengths and weaknesses. We can work with that."
"If you're serious, I might just take you up on that."
"Deadly serious. You are good," he admitted, before his smile turned cocky. "Not as good as me, obviously, but still much better than your average civilian."
Shaking her head, Hermione shoved him. "Fine, oh wise and powerful master Auror Prewett. Teach me all your ways!"
"Gladly, Miss Moody," he winked as Charlus approached with Gideon. "Although I might be forced to demand that title."
"What title?" Alastor growled, before turning to Hermione. "You did well. We'll work on ensuring you beat them next time."
Fabian's eyes went wide. "Nothing boss. Just a joke…" Alastor narrowed his eyes at him.
"Auror Prewett was offering to help me duel," Hermione threw in, diverting Alastor's attention back to her.
"Was he now?" Alastor muttered.
She shrugged. "It's not a bad idea, and you know it."
"No, it's not," he admitted reluctantly.
"We'll sort something," Charlus agreed. "I think it's time I resumed duelling more frequently."
"Going soft behind that desk," Alastor taunted.
"I could still take you," Charlus shot back.
"Want to prove it?" Alastor growled.
"Gladly."
Hermione and the twins shared a look. "Well just watch over there," she muttered as her father and godfather circled one another.
"This should be good," Gideon muttered. "I don't think I've ever seen the Boss go against… ah… the Boss."
Hermione snorted. "Uncle Charlus has just duelled. Dad has an advantage. He'll exploit it."
"Of course he will," Fabian scoffed, "but the Big Boss has something to prove."
"True," Hermione agreed, as she watched the duel begin. It was more brutal than any other duel she had had time to watch. Both men clearly had something to prove to the other or perhaps years of suppressed feelings to let loose.
"You should have had that cut healed before they started," Fabian murmured, prodding her shoulder with one long finger.
Hermione hissed, not taking her eyes off the duel "It's fine. I've had worse. It can wait."
Fabian frowned. "Is that why you learned to fight?"
"Hmmm?"
"Because you've experienced worse."
"Yes," she admitted softly.
He hummed, running his wand over the cut. "Any more?"
She shrugged, wincing as her father landed a slicing hex on Charlus' cheek seconds before her godfather cast a bombarda on the floor at their feet, throwing Alastor backwards. "Merlin are they trying to murder one another?"
"Potentially," Gideon muttered.
Several minutes later, both Alastor and Charlus lay panting on the ground, having been thrown back by a Ventus that had gotten out of control.
"Time," called an amused voice. "I think we can safely call that a draw."
"Saul," Hermione smiled.
"You look rather bashed, Miss Moody," he commented lightly.
Shaking her head she inclined it towards the twins. "Yes, well, this wasn't the first duel of the day."
"Ah. Did the Auror department manage to regain some of their pride this time?"
"Yes," she muttered. "Although it led to this so who knows?"
He snorted. "It's been a long time coming. Perhaps now, they'll stop sniping at each other and remember that they used to be friends."
"Croaker," Charlus greeted, looking exhausted.
"Director Potter," he smirked. "Alastor. Interesting display."
Both men rolled their eyes, turning to return the duelling arena to its previous state. "Why are you here?" Alastor growled.
"I came to see what the commotion was," Saul grinned. "I was not disappointed. I gather those attacking birds are your daughter's signature?"
"You're to blame for those?" Charlus demanded rounding on Hermione, his face bearing the tiny cuts caused by the canaries' beaks.
"Yes," she nodded. "As spells go, I rather like it."
"I don't," he muttered petulantly before turning to the watching crowd. "Don't you lot have work to do?"
"Yes Boss!" several people agreed, hastening from the room.
"Let us know when you want those lessons, Miss Moody. Maybe I'll even let you tie me up next time."
Laughing even as he yelped, Fabian left the room, rubbing his left arsecheek where Alastor's stinging hex had landed. Gideon shook his head as he followed him out.
"You are forbidden from even entertaining that boy!" Alastor demanded.
Laughing, Hermione shook her head at him. "But I like redheads," she teased, darting out the door as his face turned murderous and Saul laughed.