September 10, 1995

Geoff had not had to sit an exam in years, but he felt the familiar nervous edge as Professor Umbridge arrived at the edge of the Forbidden Forest with her clipboard, ready to judge his worst class: a Gryffindor-Slytherin double period.

"You do not normally teach this class, is that correct?" Umbridge asked him as the students began to trickle in from across the lawn. His son Joel, with his usual posse of Slytherins, was standing as far away from him as possible, while Draco listened to Umbridge in interest.

"Normally I teach third and fourth year Care of Magical Creatures," said Geoff, catching sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione approaching. "But this year, I'm filling in for all years while Professor Hagrid is out."

"Hmm," mused Umbridge, "I wonder...the headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter. Can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"

"I'm afraid not, I don't know, myself," said Geoff truthfully. "I was asked to fill in for all classes at the start of the year. They asked if I needed an additional teacher, but I said I could handle it. Right, is that everyone?" He clapped his hands together, and saw Joel roll his eyes. Joel hadn't spoken to him since last year, but he made sure Geoff knew he was listening – and judging – his every move.

Geoff divvied up the class to care for a crop of bowtruckles, directing them to buckets of woodlice they could use to feed them. He was relieved to see Joel keeping a healthy distance from Ron Weasley. He could not afford to have anything jeopardize his performance review. None of the other teachers took Umbridge's new position as Hogwarts High Inquisitor seriously, having taught for decades, but Geoff had never trusted the Ministry of Magic again since Emilie's trial, and he had finished out the previous year with a few students giving him the silent treatment after the Witch Weekly article exposing his previous marriage had made the rounds.

Umbridge walked amongst the students, asking them questions about the class. Geoff was relieved, but also dismayed to hear that most of her questions revolved around Hagrid's usual teaching methods, rather than his own.

'Is that what she's getting at…' he thought to himself idly, as he made his way from station to station to make sure no one was mistreating the bowtruckles.

He skipped Joel's station. His son knew how to care for bowtruckles, as well as most of the creatures they were taught about in class. He had barely seen his son over the summer, as Joel had instead elected to stay at Malfoy Manor with Draco for months on end, returning only to pack his things for the return to school. Sarah had said he was being dramatic, but Geoff wondered if that was all.

He had been near the entrance to the maze when Harry Potter had appeared with the trophy in one hand and Cedric Diggory's body in the other. He had held the crowds of students back as they had surged forward to get a better look at what had happened. And that night when Dumbledore had finally approached him to ask for help, he had hesitated.

Geoff had no doubt that Voldemort had returned, but getting involved last time had destroyed his family. Emilie had faltered, and wound up in Azkaban for it. Geoff was determined to keep them out of it entirely this time around.

But if Joel would not stay with him – if he was turning to Draco, and by extension Lucius Malfoy for guidance – was he really doing the right thing?

The lack of public panic had lulled him into a sense of safety over the summer, but Hagrid's absence irked him. Umbridge's presence irked him still more, and her recent promotion was just the first indicator that things would not be allowed to return to normal this year.

"Overall," said Umbridge once she had completed her rounds, "how do you – as a relatively new member of staff – find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school's management?"

"This is my third year teaching. Dumbledore's a great headmaster, I have no complaints," said Geoff, not missing the look of disappointment that crossed Umbridge's face at his words.

"And what are you planning to cover with this class this year – assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?" she asked.

"Oh I have no doubt he'll return before the year is out," said Geoff, hoping that she would take what he said as a sign of support rather than insider knowledge. "But I'll be taking them through the creatures that most often come up for O.W.L testing. Hagrid's got them well-prepared, though, they've covered unicorns and nifflers. I thought we'd cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognize crups and knarls, that sort of thing."

"Well you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Umbridge, and Geoff again sensed the targeting in her words. He had been certain she was going to ask him about Emilie, but the more she referenced Hagrid's lessons, the more he began to wonder…

"Now I hear there have been injuries in this class?" said Umbridge loudly enough that the rest of the class could hear.

"That was me," said Malfoy, standing. "I was slashed by a hippogriff."

"A hippogriff?" repeated Umbridge, writing on her clipboard.

"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," said Harry suddenly. Ron and Hermione groaned. Umbridge turned her attention to Harry.

"Another night's detention, I think," she said softly.

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary, is it?" said Geoff quickly, and Umbridge glanced at him with a sharp look. "I mean to say, the report I heard from Madam Pomfrey that year did indicate that Mr. Malfoy approached the hippogriff with improper technique."

Umbridge studied him with a small smile. She turned, and approached Joel, bending down to speak with him, as though talking to a small child.

"Were you in the class where Mr. Malfoy was injured, Mr…"

"Mansfield," said Joel, not looking at Geoff. "And yes."

"And was Mr. Malfoy, as Mr. Potter suggests, 'too stupid to listen'?" asked Umbridge.

"No," said Joel shortly. Umbrige straightened back up, very pleased, and returned to where Geoff stood.

"I think Mr. Potter could use the extra discipline. And I would maybe ask yourself, Professor Mansfield, if you are potentially letting your classes spiral out of control by not taking a firmer hand."

She scribbled another note on her clipboard as Geoff's spirits sank.

"I think that's all I need here, Professor Mansfield. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days time."

"Thanks," said Geoff, feeling like an idiot as Umbridge turned and flounced her pink skirts back across the lawn to the castle. He let out his breath, ignoring Malfoy's smirking face as he turned back to his class. "Alright, everyone, let's pack up."

As the students returned the woodlice buckets and crates of bowtruckles to their storage place by Hagrid's cabin, Geoff felt the cold wall that stood between him and his son stronger than ever before. He saw Joel reflecting Malfoy's smug smirk, following their gaze to Harry's hand, where the words 'I MUST NOT TELL LIES' stood out in fresh bleeding slices, and he felt as though Umbridge had been right. He had indeed let things spiral out of control.


September 15, 1995

Mariah had never left the country before, but the strangeness of the language spoken around her and the romanticism of the lamps that glinted off the waterways of Amsterdam in the pink and orange glow of the evening made her strongly consider that she should get out more often.

Wizards primarily traveled internationally by broom, but after Mariah's disastrous display escorting Harry to Grimmauld Place, it had instead been decided that they use a portkey. Mariah had Disapparated to meet Bill and Tonks early that morning in a deserted parking lot of a Norfolk beach, where they had collectively touched a plastic fork and magically lurched through space to a small alleyway in Amsterdam. Mariah had assisted with obtaining a map from a Muggle infodesk, but counted herself very lucky the Dutch spoke English. Her haplessness with foreign language was very real. Luckily, the citizens of Amsterdam were used to helpless English tourists, and it didn't take them long to find the pub where Roxana had indicated they meet.

"I'll meet with her alone, first," said Bill after checking inside to make sure she had not already arrived. "I think that's best. Tonks, you take a seat at the bar, Mariah, the bench behind me. If she looks like she's going to bolt, Tonks I want you to block her in, Mariah by me. Here." He pulled out two long flesh-colored pieces of string coiled into small circles and handed them to Tonks and Mariah. "Nabbed a few of these from Fred and George before they left."

"Excellent. I was afraid we'd have to hide under the table to get an ear in," said Tonks, who was aged up, blue-eyed and pale, with long, straight flaxen hair for the occasion.

Mariah pocketed the Extendable Ear, feeling nervous.

"We're just here to talk," said Bill, looking at her. "And if she doesn't want to join us, our job is to convince her to get away from Britain until...well, until it's over."

"Right," said Mariah, feeling as though she had swallowed a stone. Bill had been born at the start of the first Wizarding War, entering Hogwarts right as it had ended. But Mariah had been in school and graduated during its duration. If this was truly the beginning of another decade-long Wizarding War, she knew that at a certain point there would be very few places left to run to.

They staggered their entries into the pub, Mariah entering first to take a seat in the booth in the corner, her back to the entrance, Bill next, taking a seat in a booth within full view of the door, with Tonks wandering in just behind a tall older woman with reddish hair streaked with silver in a long braid over one shoulder, and sharp hazel eyes.

"Roxana!" said Bill, standing, and Mariah pressed her head against the back of her booth to keep herself from looking around. She fumbled in her pocket for the Extendable Ear, looping one end of it around the side of the booth that met the wall.

"You must be Bill," said Roxana in a warm, husky voice that sent Mariah's mind racing. "I've heard a lot about you. Excellent work in Egypt."

"Thank you. I don't want to embarrass you but I read all about your work in Transylvania. I'm a huge fan."

"Please, embarrass me. I spend so much time alone in tombs and castles it's easy to forget what appreciation feels like," laughed Roxana. Mariah flinched at the laugh. She remembered her mother's voice in those same warm, husky tones, the self-assured confidence the same, but her laugh had been a rare gem. The benches shifted as they took their seats.

A waiter came by and took their drink order, and Bill continued the shop talk while Mariah tried to get ahold of herself. She was a professional. She could handle this.

After a few minutes, Bill's voice dropped so Mariah had to hold the fleshy string to her ear to hear their conversation.

"I must admit, I didn't ask you here for trade talk, I'm afraid," said Bill.

"Oh?"

"I'm here instead to offer a warning."

There was a tense silence during which the waiter returned with their drinks. Mariah missed the next return to conversation because the waiter approached her next.

"Oh, uh…" Mariah pointed at a beer on the plastic menu on the table, and the waiter nodded, taking it from her. Mariah opened the book she had brought with her to excuse her lack of interaction and pretended to read intently, leaning her head in one hand where she held the Extendable Ear.

"...is aware of your involvement last time–"

"My involvement? Would you call all those people under the Imperius curse 'involved'? I was tortured–"

"– and now that He's returned, we want to offer that you join us instead."

"Look, I'm not a political person. Whatever's going on between Dumbledore and the Ministry has got nothing to do with me. Personally I've seen enough bureaucracies to know the best place to be is as far away from them as possible."

"This isn't political. We have a witness who saw Him return–"

"Oh yeah, some witness. A twelve-year-old boy whose fame revolves around You-Know-Who would have no reason to lie about His return," said Roxana, and Mariah felt her trepidation flare suddenly into anger.

"He's fifteen," said Bill evenly, "and a personal friend. He wouldn't lie."

Roxana sighed, and the bench creaked as she readjusted her position. Mariah heard the thunk of the glass as it was set back on the table.

"If...and I'm not saying He is, but if He's really back, I'm not about to put myself in the line of fire again," said Roxana. "But I'm also not about to let him interfere with my life again. I value my freedom, and I don't let anyone tell me where to go."

Mariah felt her heart lurch angrily. The waiter returned with her beer, but she stared at her book to avoid glaring at him, her brain refusing to comprehend the words printed black and white on the page as she listened.

"If I may...what happened last time?" asked Bill. "Whatever you say here will remain strictly confidential."

"You may not," said Roxana shortly. "If this is all you wanted to meet about, can I go now? I'm feeling rather frustrated after being led here under false pretences, and I have work to do."

Mariah heard the bench creak again as Roxana got to her feet. She looked to her right and saw Tonks swiveling off of her stool at the bar. With a deep breath, Mariah stood as well, picking up her glass. She stepped out of the booth and sat next to Bill just as Tonks sat by Roxana, preventing her escape.

"What the hell–" Roxana's protests died on her tongue when Mariah looked up and made eye contact.

"...Mum…" said Mariah slowly, the word awkward on her lips. Roxana sank back to the bench, looking at Bill darkly.

"This is low," she said.

"I volunteered," lied Mariah. "And...I wanted to see you."

Roxana said nothing. After a moment, Mariah spoke again.

"I would ask for a moment alone with you, but I can't be sure you won't bolt." She resisted the tempting urge to add the word 'again'. They needed Roxana to trust them, or at least think Mariah was happy to see her. "But please, if you won't tell Bill, would you tell me what happened last time?"

Roxana met her eyes, and Mariah recognized facets of her own features in the way her mother's lips pressed together, and the careful stare with which they held each other.

"They found me in 1977," she said finally. "I was meeting with a seller who had some cursed objects he wanted me to take a look at. Not my usual work, but the seller was renowned for rare artifacts, and I was curious. It was a trap." She took a deep breath, and her gaze dropped to her hands. "They...wanted access to some high security facilities. They wanted me to break the protective spells. I told them I couldn't do most of them because the minute the spells were down, alarms would be triggered. But there was one place they insisted on, but I wouldn't do it, my…" She looked at Bill instead. "They wanted me to take down the spells protecting Hogwarts. I said I wouldn't do it because my daughter was there."

Mariah felt a ringing in her ears, her whole body cold and numb. She heard every word, but her body felt like it was dissociating from her mind as she absorbed the information.

Roxana told the story in short bursts of detail. She had been held in a basement and tortured, but still refused. It was only when the Death Eaters returned with her husband, and tortured him instead that she acquiesced.

"I was down there for months. I didn't know where he was, or if they'd managed to find you, too. I hoped you were still safe at Hogwarts. Eventually I agreed to help them get onto the grounds – but not the castle – for one evening, and it was only after...after the job that I heard he had died in the hospital over Easter."

"He was murdered," said Mariah, and Roxana looked at her again, eyes wide. "We were attacked at home when they took him at Christmas, he was...he was broken out of captivity around March, but there was something wrong with him and he attacked us. Probably the Imperius Curse, now that I think of it. He was in St. Mungo's recovering when Death Eaters were sent to murder him around Easter."

Roxana's lips were parted. Mariah went on, feeling reckless.

"And then you helped You-Know-Who break into Hogwarts on my graduation day."

"Your graduation– no! You were sixteen…"

"I was seventeen," said Mariah, running a hand over her face. She took a long drink from her beer, grateful that she had waited to drink. "A lot of people died, mum. Classmates."

"I'm sorry," said Roxana. "I had a decision to make, and I made it. They were threatening my life, and the lives of my loved ones. I was scared."

"If you loved us so much why did you leave? You were gone years before any of this happened," said Mariah sharply. She felt Bill shift beside her, and saw Tonks glance at her, but she didn't care. She'd come all this way, after all.

"Because I love my job," said Roxana. "I know that's not what you want to hear. I made sure you were on the right track at Hogwarts, and then I figured Colin could do a good enough job on his own for the rest of it. You only had three or four summers left at home, and then you'd be out in the world. You didn't need me anymore."

"Of course we needed you," said Mariah. "Being a wife and a mother doesn't just end because I got older."

"Well I suppose I'm a widow now," said Roxana dryly, taking a long slug of her own drink. Mariah caught again a semblance of her own face in her mother's as Roxana looked down to set the glass on the table once more. Mariah sat back in her seat. She didn't remember leaning forward. Roxana looked out of the window, watching a man on a bike pass by and head off down a waterside path. When she spoke again, it was with conviction.

"I know I'm not perfect. I've lived too long, and made too many choices, and I'm proud of who I am now, despite all of it. I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused you, but I won't apologize for the decisions I've made. I made them for a reason, and I might not be where I am without them." She looked at Mariah again. "You can hate me if you want. But that's that."

Mariah gazed into her mother's eyes. They were fierce, but older than she remembered. Her eyelids drooped in a look of permanent sadness, despite the sharp eyebrows that defined her face. If she were younger, Mariah might have felt intimidated. Roxana was a force of a woman, something Mariah remembered admiring from her childhood. Red-haired, strong, and direct. She had always felt like those traits had skipped her, leaving her unsure, clumsy, and shy at school. She remembered how when her mother had left, the absence of these things had made her feel all the more distant. But now she recognized some of these feelings. She, too, felt the call of useful work. She, too, knew what it felt like to be in love, and to have that love fit horribly into the rest of the puzzle of her identity.

But she couldn't understand her mother's reason for leaving her. That having a child had been akin to fulfilling an obligation. Another witch in the world – her magical legacy preserved. How she had looked at a thirteen-year-old and thought she would be fine left on her own, as though surviving childhood had been the only challenge, and teenagerdom and adulthood would take care of itself. She didn't understand that logic, and she didn't respect it enough to try.

"I don't hate you," Mariah said finally. "I'm just disappointed."

Bill resumed the conversation while Mariah drank the rest of her beer, barely listening. He handed Roxana the name of a contact in the American south who had a number of jobs for a cursebreaker. Roxana took it, agreeing to stay out of the country for at least another five years. They shook hands, exchanging smalltalk before Tonks stood to let her out. Roxana gave Mariah one last glance before leaving the pub. Tonks followed her out – it was her mission to make sure Roxana got out of the country unmolested. And just like that, the mission was over.

As they walked alongside the waterways to the rendezvous point for the return portkey, Bill finally spoke.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Mariah made a half-hearted gesture, shrugging.

"The jury's still out on whether or not this was cathartic for me," she said. "Mostly I just feel sorry."

"Sorry for who?" asked Bill. Mariah laughed a little, watching the golden light of the streetlamps ripple across the black water.

"Sorry for Harry."


A/N (Napoleon): This will be the last update for a little while! More to come, but still in edit. Thank you for reading, so far!