Happy Memorial Day Weekend! In honor of the second week of MOD, I've posted two new chapters. As always, all rights to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. Updates to this fanfiction will be posted every Saturday by 4pm EST. Hope you enjoy!

"I don't suppose he can come, can he?" Harry found himself asking Madam Pomfrey, ten minutes later. He stood at the end of Remus' bed, as the matron checked him over.

"No, he most certainly cannot come, Potter! He needs rest."

"But we've been resting," Fred whined from the next bed over, "We've been dead, remember? How much more rest can we get!"

The idea that he would be bedridden while the rest of his friends went off somewhere to discuss details of Harry's secret mission, the subject of such classified and endless speculation, was unacceptable to Fred. Tonks gave a sympathetic and frustrated huff from beside her husband.

"Tonks, darling, let Madam Pomfrey finish her work," Remus intoned.

"But she is finished! I feel fine, Remus! Don't you want to know what Harry's been up to?"

"We do know what Harry's been up to! You were there, weren't you? The dead see everything," Remus explained at a questioning glance from Harry, "We were there to see you watch Professor Snape's memories and walk into the Forest. We know how it ended and why."

"But we don't know everything," Tonks reasoned, "Don't you want to know how they broke into Gringotts? I heard a rumor from Dawlish that they rode out on a dragon! A dragon, Remus!"

"Yes, well, as interesting as that might be," Remus argued, with the air of someone who would not be swayed, "the fact remains that you still cannot use your Metamorphmagus powers, can you?"

Tonks glared at her husband, as her natural brown hair fell lamely to her shoulders.

"That's hardly the point. For all we know, I may never be able to use my Metamorphmagus powers again. Don't know anyone else who's died and come back to life, do I? So, I can't very well check."

The twins sniggered and winked appreciatively at Tonks.

"Now see what you've done, Potter?" Madam Pomfrey rounded on Harry, "You've got her heart racing! That's all I needed. Out! Go be with your family."

As Harry turned to leave, an Eagle Owl flew in through an open window and landed with a crash on the healer's cart. Madam Pomfrey shouted in surprise, flapping her arms reflexively, trying to shoo the bird.

"Oh, what is it, then? What do you want?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, realizing there was a purple envelope in the bird's beak. She took the letter, and then seeing Harry was still there, scolded him, "I said out, Potter! They're waiting on you!"

"You go," Hermione whispered, coming up to Harry, "Ron and I'll handle this. We'll catch up with you in the Transfiguration classroom."

Trusting Hermione to deal with the situation, Harry turned to face the Weasleys. They were the only other people he truly considered family, and he trusted them with whatever Kingsley had to say. Although Fred had been rather upset to learn he would not be allowed to come along, George had dutifully agreed to stay with him. McGonagall had the foresight to relieve Bill and Fleur from guard duty; Neville and Professor Flitwick had taken their place.

"Right, then, anyone from the Weasley family, who wants to come, follow me."

The group left the Great Hall and made the journey up to the first floor. It was slow going, as they had to navigate around the fallen remnants of the battle. The hour glasses, which monitored house points, had been shattered by the fighting, and gemstones—mostly emeralds—littered the entrance hall. Entire sections of the stairway banister were missing, having crashed to the ground, or been levitated as a weapon and moved some distance away. There were scorch marks on the floor, and chunks missing from the walls where portraits had fallen. Broken windows had left piles of shattered glass spread hazardously throughout the corridor.

Professor McGonagall stood at the door to her classroom, with a man and woman by her side. The woman wore violet robes that bore the hospital's emblem of a crossed bone and wand. She was short, with natural honey blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. Creases by her hazel eyes showed her age to be late thirties, but otherwise Harry thought she had a kindly expression.

By contrast, the man was a tall and slender figure. He wore sleek, black robes that fell to the ground. His gray hair was cropped short and looked as though it had once been brown. He had the distinct appearance of someone nearsighted, who read far too often and had to squint to see the group coming. As Harry approached, the man held out a hand in greeting.

"Alden Kenworthy, Reinstated Head of the Department of Mysteries, but people just call me Ken. I was first made Department Head two years ago. Minister Fudge appointed me shortly after your little fiasco in our department. Unfortunately, that fool Thicknesse replaced me with one of his goons, when I could not be Imperiused. Minister Shacklebolt called me back tonight as a favor."

Harry nodded, looking at the man's other hand in which he held out an expired badge bearing his credentials and an official-looking signature. Unsure what to say, Harry settled for his name.

"Harry Potter, it's good to meet you."

"Likewise. Let's get inside, shall we? We'll wait for Minister Shacklebolt."

Ken held open the door for everyone.

"We have rather a large crowd with us, don't we?" asked the healer, who had introduced herself as Healer Clodagh Ryan, Senior Maven for St. Mungo's. She smiled sweetly at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they took seats at students' desks.

"That we do! The Weasleys are always a big bunch. There may be one or two more coming," Mr. Weasley warned, a twinkle in his eye.

"Where is Kingsley?" asked Harry.

"Oh, he'll be along soon enough," said Ken, "Urgent business at the Ministry. I'm afraid we're on strict orders not to speak with you privately until Minister Shacklebolt arrives."

Harry nodded. They settled into a period of waiting. Charlie and Bill sat by one another, with Fleur on Bill's left side and holding his hand under the table. Percy sat behind his parents, nervously cleaning his horn-rimmed glasses, and Ginny sat next to Harry. They weren't touching, or even speaking for that matter, but Harry could feel Ginny's eyes on him occasionally. Harry wondered what she was thinking and had chanced a glance at her, when Healer Ryan caught him off guard.

"Mr. Potter, may I just say that it's such an honor to meet you! Truly, I hope I have not been too forward in saying so, but the Wizarding World owes you a great debt of gratitude."

Harry looked over at the petite healer.

"Er, thanks," he muttered.

"Oh, he's just being modest!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "We're all very proud of him. The family's known Harry for years now. He's as good as one of our own!"

"You should be! I remember when this all started with that ghastly tournament. I confess, even then, I didn't know what to think. Never thought it was a good idea putting teenagers up against dangers untold! Terribly reckless. But then you came back with that Diggory boy and, well…" the Maven shook her head sadly, "but it's alright now, isn't it? They know you were telling the truth and You-Know-Who is gone, thanks to you."

Harry, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, kept his gaze downward. He could feel Ken's eyes on him.

"Yes, well, let's not talk about that now," cut in Mrs. Weasley, "We've got too much to celebrate! The kids have been gone almost a year now–"

As Mrs. Weasley spoke, there was a great banging on the door.

"Hey, somebody open up!" came Ron's voice.

"Ouch! George! Watch where you're driving this thing–"

"Sorry, Fred."

"No, you're not!"

"Boys!" said an irritated Remus, "Stop bickering! Hermione, would you open the door please?"

"Of course, Remus," then, as the door opened with a click, "Honestly, Ronald, the door wasn't even locked!"

With the door open, Harry was surprised to find Tonks grinning up at him from a muggle wheelchair, as Ron pushed her inside. Hermione stowed her wand away and followed with Remus, while George pushed Fred, until the room suddenly felt very full.

"Well, what do we have here?" Healer Ryan wondered, watching the chairs at work.

"Madam Pomfrey said they needed to rest, so we compromised," Hermione shrugged, "I conjured up a few muggle wheelchairs, and the boys helped me levitate them upstairs."

"Don't remind me," said Fred bitterly, "It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life, aside from actually dying."

"Oh, calm down, Fred! Don't act like it wasn't a bit fun!" Tonks chimed in.

"Easy for you to say! George had to levitate me around you because Ickle Ronniekins couldn't keep a straight line!"

"I'm sorry," Ken said, shaking his head irritated, "who are you?"

"Fred and George Weasley, at your service," the twins chanted together, holding out their hands. Ken shook them hesitantly.

"I take it these are your boys?" he asked Mr. Weasley, who nodded proudly before he spoke.

"Yes, the twins and, of course, Ron, the other redhead!"

Ron shook Ken's hand, while Tonks nodded in greeting.

"Just call me Tonks."

"Oh," Ken muttered, distracted, "and…you?"

Harry noticed that Remus' was no longer bored or content but had taken on its usual grayish pallor; his features were rigid.

"I'm Remus…pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Yes…yes, it's very nice to meet you both," said Ken, slowly.

Tonks glanced uncertainly between her husband and Ken, who had just begun introducing himself. She reached over to place a gentle hand on Remus' arm, but he shook it off.

"…Minister Shacklebolt sent me and my colleague, Senior Maven for St. Mungos, Healer Clodagh Ryan, to investigate the circumstances tonight. I must say we've heard fascinating tales of the dead come back to life."

"They're more than just stories, mate," Fred interrupted, "I've lived and died and lived to joke again!"

Ken raised his eyebrows, his small green eyes disbelieving.

"You mean to tell me you are one of the…the revived? You came back to life?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, then, why aren't you upstairs seeking assessment from the Mavens?"

Fred shrugged.

"Madam Pomfrey said she'd received a note that the Mavens had been delayed indefinitely. That's why she allowed us to come down here and be seen by you lot."

"If you don't mind, that is," George winked at Healer Ryan.

Ken thought for a moment, before turning to his colleague.

"Surely the Minister doesn't expect the two of us to handle this situation? Could you check with the hospital, Clodagh? I'm not certain what could have delayed them from coming directly here. This was an active battlefield, after all."

The healer nodded.

"I'll just be a moment," she said, pulling a piece of matching violet parchment from her robes. She used one of McGonagall's quills to scrawl a message and tapped the parchment with her wand; it folded into an origami swan and vanished with a puff of purple smoke.

"Wicked!" said the twins, "How did you do that?"

"Classified Mavens' Messaging Portal," the healer smiled.

"George, we've got to sort something like that out for the shop!" Fred exclaimed, "Is there a limit to how far the note can travel?"

"Boys, stop pestering Healer Ryan!" said Mrs. Weasley firmly.

"That's quite alright, mam. The Mavens' notes travel within a classified portal. There is no limit on how far apart we can communicate, at least, not one that we've found, and our letters cannot be opened by anyone but another Maven."

"Fascinating," murmured George, "Do you think you could show us the charm?"

"And reveal a centuries old secret?" Ken scoffed.

Healer Ryan frowned, rolling her eyes at Ken.

"Don't mind him! He's just bitter because he's always wanted to know. It's not as serious as it sounds, really. But he's right, of course. Even if I wanted to tell you boys, I couldn't. I don't expect the charm's too complicated, but it's a closely guarded secret. I don't know it myself. The Portal Charm is something a Maven is simply able to do. We don't practice for it."

"Why's it a secret?" Ginny asked, her interest piqued, as she played with a strand of her hair. Healer Ryan shrugged.

"Even I will admit the Mavens can have strange ways, sometimes. We're a medical order, see? Muggles have their religious orders, some of which are nurses or midwives. But what they don't realize is that the concept of an order originated in the magical community. Rumor has it that thousands of years ago, before muggle-relations became too strained for progress, some muggle healers even helped alongside the Mavens. It's where they got the idea. They took it to their churches, and before long, there were orders everywhere. Even the muggle habit and veil, if you've ever seen them, bear a slight resemblance to a witch's robes."

"I've never read about this!" said Hermione, aghast. She had a hunger in her expression that Harry associated with the library.

"Most people never see us," Healer Ryan explained, "you only see a Maven when you've been cursed by something fierce. That's our order's specialty: Healing the darkest and most severe curses. Or, at least, if they cannot be healed, we seek to understand them. Given tonight's circumstances, I would've expected more of us to be in attendance."

Moving to stand behind McGonagall's desk, Ken studied the professor's nameplate.

"Can anyone be a Maven?" Hermione asked, "Only, I had a great aunt who was in a religious order—or at least, that's the story she gave us. I'm muggle born, so I've always wondered if someone further down the line might've had magical powers."

Healer Ryan smiled encouragingly.

"Any witch or wizard can be a Maven. We have both men and women in our order. And Mavens can have families, but much like a religious order, their work is considered their life's calling. Mavens can go through training and join the order at any point in life, but once they start, they're expected to live out the rest of their days committed to their work."

"Wow," breathed Hermione, as though she were seeing the possibility of her heritage for the first time.

Harry thought it sounded like a feeble link to the magical world, but he was curious. If magic traveled through inheritance, then it made sense that most muggle born witches and wizards weren't really muggle born at all, but perhaps related, however distantly, to someone with magical powers. If that were true, he thought wryly, then it put Voldemort's genocidal tendencies in even sharper contrast. Pushing that thought aside, Harry focused back on the conversation.

"I joined the order," Healer Ryan continued, "when I was twenty-three years old. My best friend's grandmother had joined–"

Suddenly, there was a popping noise and a flash of purple smoke. Another folded purple parchment, this one in the shape of a butterfly, lay on the student desk in front of Healer Ryan. The writing was in gold, cursive script. Healer Ryan hurried to pick it up, scanning its contents quickly.

"What news?" demanded Ken.

Healer Ryan passed him the parchment. He read the note, his brow furrowing more the further he got down the page. When he looked up, Ken seemed to think for a second, processing some complex bit of information.

"Minerva, do you have access to the Floo Network in your private office?" he asked.

"Of course. You're welcome to use it."

With that, Ken disappeared into the adjoining office and shut the door.

"I wonder what that was about," Fred questioned.

"Doesn't seem like a cheery fellow, does he?" George asked, eyeing the door to McGonagall's private office.

"It's probably just stress…The Ministry is in uproar," answered Mr. Weasley, nodding toward Healer Ryan, "With so many waking from the Imperius and so many sympathizers on the loose, there's a lot to sort through. I was shocked when I heard they'd be able to send you here for us."

He nodded toward Healer Ryan.

"To be honest, so was I," said Healer Ryan, "I mean, I knew they'd send the Mavens well enough, but I was surprised they were able to spare Ken. I s'pose only the best for Harry Potter, though, eh?"

Harry felt heat rising up his neck. He looked down again.

"Father," interrupted Percy, "maybe we should go and help at the Ministry? They'll need everyone they can get."

"You'll do no such thing!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, before Mr. Weasley could answer, "This family will stay together. I've had enough of you all going every which way on your own. Ron, Harry, and Hermione only just returned, and we just got you back, Percy."

Percy looked as though he might argue, but then glanced shame-facedly down at his lap.

"Just as long as we don't miss dinner!" Ron complained, "I'm starved!"

"Oh, you poor dear," Mrs. Weasley tutted, her hand on Ron's cheek, "the whole lot of you look far too skinny for your own good! What have you been eating?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances but said nothing. Ron blanched.

"Oh, you know…" Ron's ears began to go red until, mercifully, he found a suitable answer, "well, we ate at Bill and Fleur's. You knew we were there the night Remus and Tonks had the baby."

"Well, yes, I know that, Ron, but what about before? When you were on the run? You weren't at Bill and Fleur's the whole time, were you?"

Mrs. Weasley cast a suspicious eye on the couple, as though threatening to go ballistic if she found out otherwise.

"No, no," Ron hurried, "It wasn't like that."

Mrs. Weasley looked between the three friends, as though she could see through them. Although Mr. Weasley was never one to be captivated by his wife's interrogations, he took an interest in this one. Harry could see there was no way out. The entire Weasley family, plus Remus, Tonks, and even Healer Ryan, waited expectantly for answers.

"Well," said Tonks, "this is what we came down here for, isn't it? To find out what you've all been up to?"

"Y-Yes," Ron stammered, looking desperately at Harry.

"You're right," Harry took over, "You all deserve answers, and you'll get them. But this is a long story…maybe?"

He looked to Hermione for help, but it came instead from Ken, who had just left Professor McGonagall's office.

"There has been a new problem at the Ministry," Ken said, then, at the look on their faces, "Nothing to worry yourselves about. We've just seen more…developments…since this morning,"

He turned to look at Harry, a hard glint in his eye.

"Mr. Potter, you may want to sit down for this…It's your family," Ken sighed heavily, "They're alive."

Harry blinked, trying to think what Ken might mean.

"Oh, you mean the Dursleys? Well, that's alright. I mean, I'm glad their hiding–"

"No," Ken interrupted, shaking his head, "You misunderstand me."

Harry stopped, his mind reeling…could this mean? No, it couldn't. It never had before. Not even when Harry had mistaken himself for James Potter back in third year.

"Your parents, James and Lily Potter," Ken started again, "are alive. They were located in Godric's Hollow after a disturbance in the Department of Mysteries tipped off Ministry officials."

Harry's heart erupted. This could not be.

"The disturbance in question," Ken continued, "was created by none other than Sirius Black, your godfather. It seems Mr. Black has also returned to us."

Blood drained from Harry's face, and he was abruptly all-too aware of the space his body occupied. In the same moment, his thoughts fell out of focus. All he could hear himself think was no…no…no…it's not possible.

"Don't lie to me," his voice cracked.

"I am not lying to you," Ken said, watching Harry evenly, "Your parents and godfather are, as far as anyone can tell, alive. They have been admitted to a private ward at St. Mungo's. Any additional staff intended to cover the battle tonight, have been redirected to St. Mungo's. There's even talk of moving the revived from the battle to the hospital."

Ken's eyes flickered to Remus, who had turned grayer.

"Y-you're sure? You're sure it's them?" Harry's voice cracked.

"As sure as we can be. We've verified their identities through magic, of course. They've been subjected to all manner of incantations, and even interrogated under Veritaserum. Every indication we have draws the same conclusion: These people are James and Lily Potter, and Sirius Black."

Harry felt himself stepping back then, his hands feeling for something to hold onto. Somewhere within him, unbridled joy threatened to escape. But the joy fought with years of learned disappointment and lowered expectations. It fought against the knowledge that he'd been on the run for months, nearly starved, hit with the Killing Curse, and then resurrected. Joy raged revolutionary war against the likelihood that at some point, he would wake up to realize this was all some potion-induced dream and he'd find himself in the Hospital Wing, with no Fred, no Remus, no Tonks, and no family.

"Harry?" it was Mrs. Weasley, who had put one hand on his shoulder, "Harry, dear? Are you alright?"

"Well, now you've done it!" said Healer Ryan, sounding irritated for the first time, "The poor boy is in shock! Really, Alden, did you think it was smart to just spring that on him?"

The healer searched inside her robe pockets and withdrew a small vial of mint-green potion, before making her way to Harry.

"Here, lad, drink up!" Healer Ryan tried to coax the potion down Harry's throat, but he pushed her away.

"Don't touch me!" Harry snapped. He'd had enough. Who were these people to barge into his life, tell him the impossible had happened, and force potions down his throat? In his mind, he saw Sirius falling through the veil…heard the screams of his mother once more. This was a dream…all a dream, and when he woke up, he would be sorely devastated. Before anyone could stop him, he ran from the room.

He hurtled down the corridor, dodging fallen piles of rubble as he went. Ron and Hermione dashed after him, but they were too late. Harry ran without really knowing where he was going, ran until his breath hitched in his side. Only when he reached Gryffindor Tower was Harry aware enough to hope no one would see him. He slipped upstairs to the Seventh-Year boys' dormitory, where he found Kreacher waiting outside the door.

"Master!" croaked Kreacher, his bloodshot eyes widening in fright, "Master Harry! What is the matter?"

"I don't want to be seen right now, Kreacher," Harry snapped, a bit more harshly than he'd intended. "I mean, I can't be seen right now," he amended, "I…I need a favor, Kreacher. I need sleep…please. Can you do that for me? Can you guard the dormitory from the others? I need some place private."

The old elf nodded quickly, his saggy skin shifting, as tufts of white ear hair bobbed with his head.

"Kreacher can ensure Master Harry is allowed to sleep. Master Harry looks most distressed. Will he be able to sleep? Would Master Harry like Kreacher to put him into a Restorative Sleep? I know a most effective enchantment, sir. Master Regulus used to—"

"Yeah, do that, Kreacher, please! Thanks," Harry said, still panting.

The elf nodded again, opening the dormitory door for Harry, who slipped inside. After laying back down on his four-poster, Harry looked expectantly at Kreacher.

"How long would Master Harry like to sleep?" Kreacher asked.

"As long as it takes…to wake up from whatever dream I'm in," Harry answered.

The elf looked confused and as though he might ask a question, but, at the panicked look in Harry's eyes, Kreacher seemed to think better of it. Nodding to himself, the elf snapped his fingers and Harry's eyes shut. Barely a moment had passed when Harry fell into a deep slumber.