"How many times are we going to end up on this street?"

In all honesty, Harry should have been glad that he was getting a break from classes. He might have enjoyed learning about runes, but it wasn't always the most scintillating of topics, particularly on a Wednesday morning. Pretty much every other student in the school would have paid a lot of money to have the extracurricular excursion but, for Harry, he felt like he didn't want to miss out on anything that Hogwarts had to offer. He'd recently had it stolen from him, highlighting how fragile his life could be, which meant that being away from the school seemed like a waste of all the effort they'd gone through to bring him back.

Except, when Matthew put forward an idea, there were very few people who could deny him what he wanted.

"Frankly, I've only been here a few times, and that's only at the start of school years," he commented. "So I don't understand why you're complaining so much. Then again, I haven't been around lately, so maybe I've missed out on certain things."

Harry folded his arms. "That's an understatement."

"It is basically like the start of the school year for me, though. Maybe, whilst we're here, I can buy my textbooks and quills, as if I don't have plenty scattered around various spots in the Tardis."

Matthew's response touched upon the two reasons as to why they weren't currently in school, despite the fact that the three of them had timetabled obligations. He had recently gone through his make-up exams and, barring a complete and utter disaster, that meant Matthew would be joining them for their lessons for the first time in nearly a year. Harry was under the impression that his friend had waited until that prerequisite was met before suggesting their latest trip, as if he was banking on Hermione being in a good enough mood to agree with the plan.

The second explanation for their unscheduled presence in Diagon Alley was the blue box still very much parked on the cobbles. The fact that it was there in the first place served as concrete proof that Matthew had, indeed, travelled through time. They were now living in an age in which two Tardises existed, though they were at different stages of their lives. The one they were currently facing was at the end of its adventure, so remarkably at odds with the one they'd travelled in despite looking so vastly similar.

Harry couldn't help but be sad at the sight. He'd almost come to terms with the fact that the Tardis was dying. That was the easy part, in a sense. But perhaps a small part of him had been holding out hope that Matthew's survival had another explanation, one that didn't involve him having to eventually return to the past. The Tardis still being there, a permanent reminder of the attack that had taken place (and was still to take place for Matthew), gave no doubt that his friend would be returning to this street at some point in the future. And he wouldn't be walking away.

"You're not just here for shopping though, are you?"

Matthew's smile was a sad one. "No. I just…needed to see her, that's all."

Hermione was closest to him, taking it upon herself to slide her hand into his. He looked down at her gratefully, the three of them approaching the abandoned box. It was only when they were right next to it that Matthew reached out towards the wooden surface, slowly stroking it, an act that evidently didn't help improve his mood, judging from the way his face fell even further.

"I can't…feel her. She's slipping away."

Hermione rested her head upon his shoulder. "It's okay. She's been clinging on for quite some time. Maybe…maybe she was waiting for you to come back so that she could say goodbye."

"The Tardis does view things from a non-linear perspective, which means there's every chance that she knew this day was coming. It doesn't make it any easier to contend with, however."

"I know. And you don't have to pretend that it's easy, either. We're not going to judge you if things get tough."

"I guess this proves beyond all reasonable doubt that I…die."

It was such a simple comment. A passing remark. No one should have been able to speak about their demise in such a comfortable fashion. Upon being reunited with his friend, Harry had wanted to see more of a fight, more of a willingness to change fate itself. Even though he'd had it explained to him as to why that wasn't possible, he didn't want Matthew to be so…accepting of what was to come, because that surely would only encourage him to fall into line.

If there was one thing he could understand, then it was Matthew's morose attitude. From what they'd been told about Matthew's past, the Tardis had always been there. It was something born out of family. It was something that represented that same family's sacrifice on the darkest of days. It had been Matthew's constant companion, and now he was being faced with a reality in which those two companions had been torn apart, no matter the fact that they were now standing next to one another once again.

"We…we thought that she'd act as a tribute to what you did," Hermione explained. "Like a statue. Because I know you'd never want an actual statue of yourself."

Matthew wrinkled his nose. "Perish the thought. Imagine all those shoppers having to look at my bronze face for centuries to come. No one deserves that."

"We thought of moving her," Harry added. "But then we quickly realised that we were never taught how to fly her, and trying without supervision would probably have resulted in a small disaster."

Speaking of supervision, Harry spied Sirius further along the street, pretending to be interested in the latest offering of the Prophet. There might have been a relative calmness that had descended upon wizarding society after the attack on Malfoy Manor, with Voldemort presumably licking his wounds, but that didn't mean they were going to take any chances. With how easily Harry had recently been snatched away from them, it would have been naive at best to let their guard down.

"No, I think you made the right choice. Let her collect dust. Shops will come and go, but she'll stay here forever. People might even forget what she is or why she's here in the first place, if they're ever told. But I'd rather her be out in the world, rather than holed up in some room, never to be seen again."

"At least she was given a chance to do one final, triumphant act," Hermione remarked.

Matthew quirked an eyebrow. "I haven't heard about this."

"Neither have I," Harry added, growing curious.

Hermione looked suitably bashful. "Well…we needed to find Harry and all the adults I would have liked to have relied on weren't coming up with any solutions. Although I knew the Tardis didn't have any power, I'd seen it for myself how she's been able to track him down. So I used her to do exactly that, which is the only reason why we were able to figure out Malfoy Manor was the key."

"It's a good job too," Harry responded. "I was told that Voldemort was going to kill me that night after he'd run out of patience."

"You never mentioned that detail to us!"

He shrugged. "I didn't think there was any point in making you even more worried, seeing as everything turned out alright in the end."

"I wonder why Voldemort took his time in killing you," Hermione mused. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. It's just, if I was in his shoes - which is a horrendous thought, mind you - I would have gotten it out of the way as soon as possible, seeing as your track record proves that you've got a knack for escaping."

Harry gulped, which proved to be an oddly difficult thing to accomplish. His mouth was suddenly dry as he faced a truly daunting and unstoppable opponent - Hermione's curiosity. His friend didn't even realise that she was doing anything wrong, digging into something that he didn't want to talk about. Because answering her queries with the truth would have to include the fact that he'd met Enola, and that was a can of worms that needed to stay tightly shut. When Matthew was dealing with a wave of emotions thanks to the Tardis, it would have been cruel to add an extra layer to his suffering.

Lying was the kinder option.

It was a tactic that Matthew had followed in the past, so why couldn't Harry deploy it now it suited his needs?

"How will we ever know how his messed up brain works?" he chose to say. "Let's just be grateful that he slipped up again. It makes me more hopeful for the future, as if he truly is fallible."

"And with how pessimistic you've been about your prospects, I see that as a major improvement in your mindset. Well done."

"I can't tell whether you're being sarcastic or not."

"That's when you know the sarcasm is working."

"What I don't understand is how you used the Tardis," Matthew said, circling back to their previous line of discussion - something Harry was all too grateful for. "Yes, she can track Harry's magical signature. But you already admitted that she didn't have enough power left."

Hermione fidgeted on the spot. "I…I might have given her my power. Only for a short duration! I figured out that she was operating on pure magic, so I provided the spark she needed. It was like filling up a car with petrol. Nothing more than that."

"It's a lot more than that! Do you realise how much power it takes to fuel the Tardis?"

"I got a decent impression based on how tired I was afterwards."

"You could have completely drained yourself! The fact that you didn't just shows how much of your core you tapped into. All of those lessons paid off."

"I still need to practise on my stamina."

"That comes with repeat performances. Hermione Granger…you never cease to amaze me."

Harry could clearly tell that, if he hadn't been there and if Sirius hadn't been posing as a tourist, Matthew and Hermione would have been sharing at least a kiss in celebration. So he was grateful for their resolve. He wasn't grateful for the tiny, miniscule section of his brain that was jealous of Hermione's accomplishments, even though he'd showcased his own talents when it came to pure magic. And if her actions had resulted in his safe return, what did he have to complain about?"

"It explains your patronus as well," Matthew continued.

"How so?" Hermione asked.

"Haven't you been wondering why it was a bear?"

"I suppose it wasn't my first expectation. But then I've never really thought about what animal suits my character? Maybe something more timid and curious? Like an otter?"

"The Mormont family were said to have a strong link to bears. It was probably a legend or fairytale designed to light up my imagination before bed, but if you openly and unashamedly connected yourself to the Tardis, you were indirectly exposing yourself to the Mormont family magic too."

"Which went on to influence my patronus…do you think that it'll be a permanent thing? Or, now that I'm no longer connected to that magic, will the patronus change shape?"

"There's only one way to tell, although I'm not hoping that any dementors turn up again anytime soon. But, the way I see it is that, as mentioned, the Tardis reads time a lot differently compared to the way we view it. For us, it's a linear path. You opened yourself, fuelled the Tardis, and that powered the patronus. End of story. From her perspective, that connection is still going and always has been."

"Could that have drawn me to you in the first place? Or vice versa?"

Matthew pouted in thought. "Potentially. Though I'd rather see that as a result of my magnetic charm."

"Oh my god."

Hermione had snorted in laughter at the sight of Matthew waggling his eyebrows, though she quickly sobered up after hearing the other voice enter the fray. Given where they were and what had transpired on that street, it was fair that they were quick to be on edge. That was before Harry processed the fact that he recognised the voice, and the person who owned it. With the role she'd inadvertently played in Matthew's death, Emilia Borrant wasn't someone he was ever going to forget in a hurry.

Emilia was understandably cautious as she approached, gazing at the ghost with wide eyes. Hermione was nervously glancing between the older woman and the boy beside her. In the distance, Sirius remained as a passive observer, presumably realising who it was at the same time they'd done, lessening the need for him to swoop in and save the day. Harry didn't know whether to greet her arrival with a smile, or whether he should run to avoid the awkwardness that was about to transpire.

Because the only person who didn't have a clue as to what was going on was precisely the person who had attracted Emilia to them in the first place. Matthew was picking up on the shift in his friends' demeanour, though they were too busy trying to figure out how to act to actually explain the situation to him. So, as the perceived stranger closed the distance between them, invading his personal space so that she could place a hand on his cheek, Matthew was left looking like a fish out of water.

"How…how are you alive?"

"Funnily enough, a lot of people keep asking me that same question."

"Matthew…this is Emilia Borrant…"

Hermione was the one to supply the information, finally coming to her senses. Harry was grateful that she, as always, was there to handle things. Matthew's eyes flashed with new understanding, though none of the rigid awkwardness in his body seemed to dissipate. In contrast, Hermione's comment appeared to have only made Emilia even more perplexed about the situation.

"Ah," Matthew began. "It's nice to meet you at last. I've been told quite a bit about you."

Emilia frowned. "What do you mean? Do you not remember what happened? Do you not remember me?"

"This is going to be a rather long winded conversation, so the simple way of explaining things is that…that hasn't happened for me yet."

"...time travel?"

Matthew smirked. "I can fully understand why I was so quick to protect you."

"I suppose you're not going to tell me how you managed that."

"As sharp as a tack."

"Oh…it's just…so good to see you!"

Without missing a beat, Emilia went one step further and wrapped him up in a hug. Taken by surprise, Matthew flailed helplessly, looking to his friends for either help or advice. Harry simply shrugged, having never been the most educated when it came to physical embraces. And Hermione only stood and shook her head at the sheer cluelessness of her boyfriend.

"I never got the chance to thank you for what you did," Emilia continued once she'd properly untangled herself from the boy. "You saved my life. I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for you."

Matthew held up a hand. "Ah, I can't accept any of this gratitude, seeing as I haven't done anything yet."

"But you will do it. That's all that matters. And, through whatever miracle has taken place, I get to see you again. Oh, Hermione…I can only imagine how happy she was when you were reunited. I faced the full force of her anger during the days following the attack."

"Matthew doesn't need to hear any of that," the other girl quickly butted in.

"Quite right. I'm just really thrilled that the two of you get to be together again. You better hold onto each other, that's all I'm saying."

"I'm not letting this one out of my sight."

"Good. Otherwise I might have been shooting my shot, even if he is a little bit younger than what I go for."

Matthew sputtered. "I wouldn't recommend challenging Hermione. Her track record with a wand is fearsome."

Emilia patted him on the cheek again. "I've already gone through one close call with death. I won't be rushing into a repeat performance."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, hoping the blunt question didn't come off as too rude. "I mean…do you make a habit of coming back here after…everything that unfolded?"

"You can blame Matthew for that, in a way."

The boy in question held his hands up. "I don't remember doing anything. Then again, that's par for the course at the moment."

"You wouldn't remember it, because it's something that you said to me when we met. For some reason, I was telling you about my aspirations in life…how I wanted to try my hand at writing. After getting a second chance at life, I thought that was the kick I needed to take a punt. And I couldn't work in that shop anymore. Too many bad memories, as you can probably imagine. I was actually on my way to Flourish and Blotts. They've supposedly put the prints of the first edition on display this week, and my ego has forced me to see just how many have been sold."

If there was one thing that was going to get Hermione excited, then it was the thought of new literature. "You're an author now?"

"I don't know whether I can actually call myself that, but…maybe? My photo is on the dust jacket. The publishers seemed to be really interested in the idea I pitched, and then they said something about a Percival Wulfric Brian funding my first story to see how it goes. I don't even know who they are."

Harry kept his mouth shut. He only needed to think back to his enjoyment of chocolate frogs to pick up on the familiar name. Dumbledore's trading card had given his full details, though why the headmaster was venturing into the world of publishing, that was anyone's guess. Maybe it was because he simply could. Maybe making Emilia's dreams come true had been his way of honouring Matthew's legacy, since the old man hadn't been able to stop the attack from happening.

"We'll take three copies," Harry told her.

"Signed, as well," Matthew added. "I'm sure they'll be worth a fortune in a few years' time."

"Although that's obviously not why we're doing it," Hermione retorted, giving Matthew a not-too-gentle nudge. "I'm fascinated to see what you've written about."

"And she's read enough books to be the only reviewer you need to worry about."

"I…I couldn't possibly take your money after what you've done for me," Emilia argued.

"Nonsense. I won't hear a word of it."

"At least…let me buy you three a drink? That way, my guilty conscience won't be too unbearable. And it'd be nice to hear more about how this…" She stopped to gesture at Matthew. "...is possible."

"We are supposed to be getting back to our next lesson," Hermione pointed out. "There's only so much that I'm willing to miss."

Matthew was already leading her towards the shop. "You've never been able to resist a visit to Flourish's. And I'd like to find out if I get a dedication in this book."

"You might find that one of the characters is named after you," Emilia cautiously admitted.

Harry shook his head. "As if his head wasn't already big enough."

xxxxxxxxxx

The meals at Hogwarts had always taken up a special place in Harry's heart. This had grown to be even more prominent since he'd got his friends back, with the pressure of school work - and having to potentially save the world one day - melting into the background. He was able to laugh and chat with his peers as any normal teenager had the right to. It was as if nothing life threatening or life altering had ever taken place.

Saying that, he was picking up on subtle changes, some of which he was responsible for. Draco would no longer sneer in his direction at any given opportunity, largely because he was once again speaking to at least some other members of Slytherin house. Harry wanted to pat himself on the back at the fact that one of those people did include Daphne Greengrass, though he wasn't holding out hope for any wedding invitations in the future. And Daphne had apparently struck up some sort of friendship with Hermione, seeing as she occasionally visited Gryffindor's resident bookworm to discuss the latest academic puzzles they'd been faced with.

A Slytherin actively going out of their way to spend time with the house of Godric should have been headline news in the Prophet.

Including Greengrass, Hermione had evidently been making some changes of her own. She made a more concerted effort to include the likes of Neville and Ginny in their conversations. After being quizzed about the behaviour, she'd simply stated that the pair had helped her through the loss of her two boys, and that had been the end of that. If Neville and Ginny had supported Hermione when no one else had been able to, then Harry was willing to give them the keys to the proverbial kingdom.

It was Neville who was excitedly outlining the plan for that day's Herbology lesson when the owls arrived. The sight of hundreds of birds flying through the hall should have left Harry stunned, but it was just another thing that he'd somehow grown used to over the years. He wasn't used to one of those owls landing precariously close to his porridge, dropping an envelope in front of him, and then stealing a rasher of bacon from Seamus Finnegan's plate before departing once again.

He looked down at the missive with slight curiosity, and a gentle dose of apprehension. He wasn't familiar with the neat and cursive writing, but it didn't look like the penmanship of a crazed killer looking to do him harm. When he pictured Bellatrix Lestrange or Barty Crouch Jr, he could imagine that their use of a quill was haphazard at best. The mystery surrounding the sender both made him eager to open the letter and hesitant to do exactly that.

Matthew was busy handling the fallout from Seamus' loss of breakfast, with the Irish boy trying to snatch food from Ron's plate to make up for the earlier avian theft (a foolish course of action given Weasley's character traits). Hermione was scribbling away, taking in everything that Neville was saying about the upcoming class, utilising the boy as a vital source of information. Which meant that Harry had a brief window of privacy that had presented itself to him.

Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well, or simply finds you in the first place. I've never used an owl before and you don't understand how difficult it was to find one to begin with.

I also hope this letter sheds some light on the choice I made. Your confusion and anger was clear to see, though I must admit that I find it cute that you worry so much after such little time together.

He is on the move.

There is little more that I can say without suffering the scorch of fire and flames.

Stay safe. Your survival has angered him to no end.

E

"Who's 'E'?"

Harry jumped at the sound of Matthew's voice. His friend had evidently abandoned his efforts to stop a fight from taking place at the table, with bagels now being thrown between Seamus and Ron. Matthew had instead placed himself right beside Harry, leaning his chin on the other boy's shoulder so that he could read the letter as well without even thinking to ask. It was enough to make Harry fold the letter away quickly, despite the fact that he knew the damage had already been done.

"Matthew! You're far too nosey for your own good!"

"Not to sound rude, but who'd be writing to you?"

"You still managed to sound rude, believe it or not."

The commotion he'd accidentally started, through his blurted out retorts and frantic behaviour, had now caught the attention of Hermione. Anything that was powerful enough to distract her from further study was going to be of intrigue, but Harry wished that her interest would have abated just this once. It was bad enough trying to deal with Matthew on his own without adding Hermione to the mix, the power couple having always represented a formidable foe.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry mumbled, attempting to slide the letter into his robes.

Matthew grabbed his arm. "Not so fast. I think Harry's got a secret admirer that he's not telling us about."

"I don't have a secret admirer, thank you very much."

"Is it someone in the school? It must be. Though why would they use an owl? Unless the two of you are trying to inject some romance into the courtship. It's quite sweet, now that I think about it."

"I just said that it's not a secret admirer!"

"Yet you're still keeping it a secret. That's half of the credentials right there."

"Did it not have their name on the letter?" Hermione wondered.

"Just an initial. Do you know anyone whose name begins with 'e'?"

Hermione puffed out her cheeks. "Gosh, there are loads at Hogwarts. Are we talking first name or last name?"

"I have no idea."

"Then this could take all day."

"Harry, you could easily save us a lot of time if you just bite the bullet and tell us who it is."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about if you are trying to get into the dating scene. Although I'm sure there are numerous readers of Witch Weekly who'll be devastated about the news that someone else has caught your eye."

Matthew was tapping his chin. "It'd have to be someone you've spent time with, right? But the 'e' is stumping me." He gasped. "Unless…have you started a scandalous relationship with Emilia? She's a few years your senior, I might note, which would earn you some kudos in certain circles."

Hermione threatened him with a fork. "I'm not entirely sure that you're helping."

"And I'm not entirely sure that that's what I intend to do."

"Can I speak to you, Hermione, please? Alone?"

Harry rushed out the words, taking the other two by surprise, not just because of what he was asking. He was unable to meet their mutual gazes, hoping and praying that they would just give him the benefit of the doubt. Was he hyperventilating? Quite possibly. And it had nothing to do with the fact that his friends were surely thinking that he'd lost his mind. It didn't even bother him that they thought he was engaging in a previously unannounced relationship.

No, what troubled him the most was that he knew who'd sent the note.

It was fairly obvious, in truth, and it was only because Matthew and Hermione were looking at the jigsaw from the back and without the box that they weren't able to piece it together themselves. Harry hadn't thought that an owl would be Enola's way of communicating with him. He saw her as someone who deployed more fanciful techniques, though perhaps the well established methods were the most reliable. And it wasn't as if he'd even considered the fact that she'd reach out to him.

Knowing that he was closer than ever to being caught out, Harry could feel himself sweating. He'd put this conversation off, believing that he was saving Matthew from the truth. Now too much time had passed. Now he'd just look guilty if he divulged who was sending him secret notes that didn't make a lot of sense. He couldn't face Matthew's disappointment, but he was surely on the brink of exploding if he didn't let the information out.

Speaking to Hermione would hopefully be the happy middle ground.

She seemed to be looking to Matthew for permission, with the boy throwing his arms up in the air theatrically. "Fine. But I'd like it on record that I'm insulted that you're unwilling to come to me when it concerns girl troubles, Harry."

"Noted," he replied, sighing in relief at his friend's quick acquiescence.

Harry scrambled away from the table, hurrying Hermione up in a manner that was only going to irritate her. His best bet was probably keeping her sweet, but he was too nervous about what he was going to say to properly care about tactics. How was he going to do this? Was he going to build up the courage? Was he going to divulge in some small talk before dropping the bomb? Or maybe he'd just chicken out entirely, saving the confrontation for another day.

"Okay, Harry, let's hear it," Hermione said once they were in the corridor outside the hall. "I'm certain it's not too bad, whatever you've done. If there is someone you're interested in, then being yourself is the key. Nothing I say will be of much use."

"For the last time, this isn't about some girl I like!"

Except it was. On both counts. Enola was a girl. And he did happen to like her quite a bit, though that was based on the adrenaline of a daring rescue and not having much to compare her with at the time. Just the thought that she'd gone out of her way, put her life on the line, to speak to him now was enough to make him giddy. And that really wasn't helping when combined with the way his stomach was constantly flipping.

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

In the end, blurting it out was always going to be the only option he'd go for.

"I met Enola. As in…Matthew's Enola. She was at Malfoy Manor and she was…working for Voldemort."

Hermione froze, her mouth hanging slightly open, her brain finally faced with something she couldn't process. "I'm going to need you to say that again."