Sympathetic Properties

by Mr Norrell

Having been treated as a servant his entire life, Harry is more sympathetic when Dobby arrives, avoiding Vernon's wrath and gaining a bit of freedom. That freedom changes his summer, his life, and the world forever. A very long character-driven story that likes to play with canon.

29. Collywobbly Mollywobbles

.o0O0o.

As the overhead lights flickered on in his office the man called Dan looked down the hallway just in time to see Sam, his latest partner in dental damage-control, approach Martha for his next victim. He fled inside and shut the door when he saw the smiling man frown, hoping she'd sell him fobbing Robbie Fenwick off on him well enough to be believable. He didn't think he had too much to worry about though, Martha always took his side in pestering new people and Sam's only worked here a year and a half.

Bumping up against forty-two, the frizzy-haired dentist unashamedly made the 'old man noise' as he settled into the swivel-chair at his desk. His eyes fell on the stuffed bear occupying the nearest corner of the tiny office for the last several years. It was a poor replacement for the little girl who used to do her coloring, numbers, and homework there but eventually she "grew up" and needed an office of her own.

It always brought a smile to his face remembering when he first found her in her closet with pillows around her for comfort and old desk lamps she'd found somewhere for light as she worked on her lessons. It didn't make her absence any less though, but nothing ever did. Maybe he should get it a frizzy wig.

"Hey Bobo," he said as he reached over and gave the bear a pat on the head. "You know, you'll never finish if you wait until you know how to do it perfectly," he gestured to the open coloring book on the bear's lap. "Just get in there and go nuts with it."

Bobo the Bear was a creature of intense focus, much like the woman who'd given it to him when he'd complained of the empty corner, so it wasn't surprising he didn't respond. Instead of killing time being crazy he wound up his pair of plastic teeth and watched as it chomped the air and rattled its way across his desk until he could be sure that Robbie Fenwick was safely in the exam room. After he had felt like he'd kept the entire world waiting long enough he picked up the phone and dialed his home number.

"Grangerresidence,HermioneGrangerspeaking," he was greeted with after what may have been half a ring.

"Hey Pumpkin," he said curious at his daughter's eagerness. "How's the daaaay?" he playfully added knowing it would irk her. These little constant irritations had so far worked wonders at bringing her out of her shell a bit more and he saw no reason to stop pestering her now.

"How long are you going to be calling me 'Pumpkin'?" she asked, the waves of mortification practically radiating out of the phone.

"That depends how long it takes to find out what you needed to talk to me about," he said, answering a completely different question to the one she asked. "And I'm not Pumpkin here, you are."

He covered the mouthpiece as he silently laughed. How he loved being the clueless annoying dad; it really made having a kid worthwhile.

"I could go back to calling you 'Little Puckle' if you'd like," he suggested giving her an equally irksome option to be repulsed by. After a moment of no doubt irritated silence he gave his daughter a way out, "Is that all you wanted to talk about? Because if so I've got teeth to clean."

"No, I wanted to ask if I could go over to a friend's house today," she said in a not-asking tone.

"I didn't know you had friends living nearby," he said as he flipped through his mental rolodex of Hermione-related things and coming up blank.

"So can I go?" she asked rather than answering his implied question.

"Well, who are these friends?" he asked dubiously.

"Just kids from school," she said evasively.

While it was true the only 'friends' and 'kids from school' she really mentioned were these Harry and Ron boys he couldn't discount the possibility her knowing others as well. Normally he'd applaud her trying such a tactic but this time she'd chosen to try it against him, which told him two things. First was she thought her mother would say no immediately; and second, she saw him as the softer target – which, admittedly, he was.

"So what are their parents' names so I can call them if I need to?" he probed.

"I don't know if they have a phone," his daughter said in a way which could almost make him see her brace for an impact as her hopes headed towards a brick wall.

"These wizardy-folks?" he asked, fingering today's tabloid. "I don't think I like the idea of you going somewhere that doesn't have a phone. What if you get gored by a… rampaging unicorn or something?" he asked grasping for an example. "You could be dead or in the hospital for hours before we get an owl. Wait – do they even have hospitals? You said they did, didn't you? What's their healthcare system like compared to the NHS?"

"Yes, they're magical but we're not going anywhere near any magical creatures," she rebutted his concerns. "We're just going to be studying and talking about next year. And while I don't know what their hospitals are like, with magic I'd have to assume it'd have to be better than ours. Our school nurse was said to be able to mend broken bones in a heartbeat."

"Treating compound fractures like they're whimsical isn't that big of a selling point," he told his daughter. "Remember the last time we went skiing and I broke my leg? You'd think the world was coming to an end with the way you behaved."

"Well you shouldn't have taken a toboggan down the advanced ski slope," she chided.

"Yes, well, you only live once," he said with a dismissive wave she'd never see.

"You only die once too," she countered.

"You think we should do that again?" he asked as an idea popped into his head.

Hermione responded with a short, choppy, "What?"

"Go skiing," he replied happily. "You know, hit the slopes; get all wet and cold. Not now though, not enough time left – next summer then. Or we could go water-skiing, get some sun, do some snorkeling, some beaching – is 'beaching' a verb?" he asked as he flicked the top of his plastic chompy-teeth toy.

"Not the way you're using it, no," she replied. "Daddy, you're deflecting."

He sat in his chair in a bit of a huff. She wasn't supposed to use the 'daddy card' anymore, it was fighting dirty. He had a sinking suspicion what was going on so if she wanted to fight asymmetrically then so could he.

"Well, even if I wanted to say yes I couldn't let you go without knowing where you'd be and who'd be there," he said with a parental air of finality.

Placed squarely in the position of backing out, revealing what she obviously didn't want him to know, or defying the big cuddly bear and running off without permission he really didn't know what Hermione'd do. No doubt she'd called in the first place knowing that he wasn't likely to tell her unequivocally no but her evasiveness made it plain she thought that even he might not approve.

With her placing him in this position though he hoped she wouldn't then run off if he didn't like what she said. If she did he'd be bound by those iron-clad official parental obligations to become the authoritarian father, and he'd really been hoping to avoid it, be she a teenager or no. That was a trigger you simply couldn't unpull.

"At the Burrow," his daughter said with a defeated sigh, "Mrs. Weasley should be there."

He rapped his knuckles on the desk as his suspicions were confirmed. He may act stupid but he weren't no dummy.

"Ah," he said sagely as he tried to figure out what to do. "So when you asked to go to a friend's house what you really meant was 'could you visit Harry?' Do we need to have a talk about being overeager?"

"I'm not going to have twenty kids," Hermione said prissily. "Besides, I know other people there too," she added defensively.

"Yes, there's troll-boy," he agreed referring to the Ron boy he met, "and what did you call those havoc-hatching hellion henchmen he had: Tweedledum and Tweedledumber?"

"They can be a bit much at times but they're not so bad once you get to know them," his daughter said trying to stitch together a case to still go. "Besides, their house is a magical household, which means we can do magic there."

That bit of news gave him pause.

"I thought the schoolmarm said you couldn't do magic at home once you started there," he said curiously. "They can't have changed it or we would've heard about it straight away when you got back."

"They didn't," she explained, "but there's a loophole in the law. If you're in a magical area and they detect magic used around you, they have to assume it's done by an adult. It's completely unfair," his daughter said before he could, "but Harry says he doesn't think anyone knows it's even there. He's only been doing it a little in secret to help his studies, but you can see what kind of opportunity it'd be to get some practice in before school."

"Huh. That–," he said a little bit perplexed. "That's a really good reason to go, actually," he admitted, wondering why she didn't start off with this argument instead. 'When you grasp at straws sometimes you find a ladder,' he guessed.

"Hang on," he said, scratching his head as his mind caught up with the rest of him. "That red-haired fellow said they lived near 'Ottery St. Catchpole' but no one here's ever heard of it. The closest I could find was an Ottery St. Mary and that's on the other side of the country. How the heck you gonna get there?" he asked before realizing he'd essentially just agreed she could go.

"I have a friend who can take me there and back faster than you can blink, so you don't have to worry," she said happily as the exhausted hamster powering his brain desperately tried to spin his wheel faster to keep things going.

"Who is this friend?" he asked curiously. "And do they even know you're coming?"

"No, they don't. I was going to send them a letter asking if I could but I couldn't find Imogen last night and even if I did it wouldn't be until later today I got an answer and by then you might think it's too late, but if I asked you beforehand I knew you'd say no since we'd only just got back home," his daughter said with ever increasing rapidity as she disgorged her line of thinking at him. "So I decided to wait until I asked you today because I didn't want to get my hopes up and because this friend wasn't available to deliver a message until now, but what's the point of delivering a message when I can just go over there myself?"

"And what if they have plans for the day? They could be off–," he looked to the tabloid for inspiration as he couched the receiver between his shoulder and ear. "–Fighting monsters or aliens. It's a bit rude just to show up unannounced like that, you know."

"If they have plans, I promise I won't impose, and if there are monsters or aliens I'll come back immediately," she said in a tone much more receptive to joking.

"Well, when you say it that way..." he said with a roll of his eyes.

Hermione gave one of her super-rare, once every blue moon, happy squeal of over-excitement usually reserved for getting a book she really really wanted but hadn't been expecting to get. Astonishingly, this was the second time she'd done it in the last two weeks.

'My little bookworm's turned into a squealing, Harry-crazed teenager,' he thought sorrowfully. 'Is this success or certain doom? I really can't tell anymore.'

"Thanks, Dad," she said with a big smile obvious through the phone.

"Hang on now," he interjected before she could run too far off ahead. "I never technically said you could go," he rightfully pointed out. "But even if I did, just… go slow, alright? And don't expect this to be an everyday kind of thing, and I'd want you home by dinner," he hastened to add. "But still, you haven't told me about this friend of yours and how they're getting you from place to place."

"I don't really think I can," she said curiously before continuing on in a whisper. "What she's doing for me may technically be illegal because I'm a muggleborn in a muggle house. If so, it's a stupid law–"

"–But just the sort of thing that should be broken at every opportunity," he finished for her in full agreement with his little social rebel. "I don't see why you can't tell me though," he said before lowering his voice too. "Do you think they might be listening?"

Hermione chuckled and continued at a normal speaking level. "Harry said Mr. Weasley asked him what the function of a rubber duck was, and he works with muggle things for a living. I think monitoring telephones is a bit beyond them."

"Ah!" he said dramatically. "But they could always want you to think they don't know what they're doing..."

"Either way," she said back in a whisper again. "She's here and I don't want her to feel bad for thinking she may be doing something wrong. It isn't nice. However," his daughter said in a normal tone, "I did find a way to give you a clue."

"Really?" he asked quizzically. "How so?"

"Hold out your hands and close your eyes, and I'll give you a big surprise," his daughter said in an annoyingly Granger way.

"I know you're playing with me," he told his daughter in what must be an infinitesimal amount of the irritation she must contend with on a nearly constant basis coupled with the happiness of hearing something he never thought he'd live to hear from her. "But you know what? Just for saying it that way, sure, I'll play along," he said as he closed his eyes and held out his hands, palms upwards.

"Alright," he said when he was in position. "So how long do I have to–?"

Just then a weight suddenly shifted his hands and there was a pop! nearby. The shock made his eyes pop open and the phone to fall as he scrambled to adjust. Even with all the topsy-turvy craziness though he couldn't miss the warm, fudgy, cakey, gooey goodness heaped high upon the plate that was now in his hands as he set it on the desk.

'I love my daughter,' he thought as he gazed at it all with the wide-eyed wonder of a child. Something twisted in his mind though as he put two and two together and came up with twenty-two. "Hang on," he said to no one in particular before scrambling to pull the telephone receiver back to him using the spirally cord.

"Where did you find brownies?" he asked his daughter through the phone, meaning it in every possible way.

"Gotta go, Dad, bye!" Hermione said quickly before hanging up on him.

"But–!" he in vain, trying to piece together the weird turn his life just took. "I'm going to need milk," he said to himself since his there was no point calling his daughter back. He hung up the phone and leaned in to enjoy the chocolaty smell of heaven. 'I'm going to have to cut back after this or I'm gonna get so fat,' he thought.

A climbing cacophony coming from the front office put his brownie-nosing on hold and he got to his office door just as someone knocked. Since explaining where the brownies came from was out of the question it looked like break time was over. He opened the door and slipped out to find Martha there waiting on him.

"What's going on?" the frizzy-haired dentist asked.

"Mrs. Fenwick and her son are throwing tantrums on their way out," the woman said with an 'I'm tired of dealing with this' look. "He's doing it because Sam 'hurt him' when he poked his cavity and she's mad Sam told them never to come back."

"And why'd he do that?" he asked, not that he complained in the least.

"It might've been because the boy tore a chunk out of his hand," she said somewhat accusingly as if he had had something to do with it. "He's gone to the hospital for stitches and we're already backed up," Martha said handing him the next patient's file before turning and walking away.

'That's just great,' he thought sourly as he walked to exam room one. 'My daughter's run away to be with her boyfriend, I'm up to my eyeballs in work, I can't eat my brownies while they're warm, and I wouldn't have milk if I tried. I might've been better off if I'd let Robbie Fenwick bite me.'

.o0O0o.

With a flick Molly turned the wireless off again. Her family would either suffer total financial collapse or it wouldn't; there was nothing she could really do and all of this pacing was doing nothing to soothe her nerves. Instead of dwelling on it until she wore a rut in the floor she went to the kitchen to look in on something she might be able to help with. Through the window she could just make out Harry sitting in the distance on the outskirts of the copse of apple trees where the kids played that silly game.

'What would Glenda Goodwitch do in this situation?' she asked herself as she picked up the Daily Prophet and tapped it against the palm of her hand.

The only thing that came to mind was a few simple sayings, the most fitting being, "If someone runs away, they want to be alone, but if they're alone near people they want to be comforted." The mother in her certainly wanted to go out, give him a hug, and tell him that everything would be alright but was it what Harry needed her to do or what she needed for herself? Being alone near people described her too and she certainly could use some reassurance right now.

If he had been one of her own there would've been no doubt but when every adult in the boy's life only seemed to make things worse would doing so really be for the best? Merlin knew the boy needed something, someone to take him in and give him all the mothering he'd missed out on, but so many things she'd come to rely on had been completely overturned in the short time he's been here she didn't know how he'd respond if she tried. Would he take to it like a needy child and become family in all but name or would he lash out for her trying to take what should've been his mother's place and push himself further away?

She supposed it was some consolation that whatever was bothering him that Harry seemed to know what it was that he needed to feel better. Who better to comfort you when all the adults failed than people your own age? And while Bill had chided her for not seeing the Ginny she had but rather the one she'd wanted her to be – a charge that was uncomfortably true the more she thought of it – there was something she knew very well: Arthur and the boys.

Arthur was an amazing man, she'd always said so, and the boys showed many of his best qualities in wondrous ways. Bill got his curiosity and a good bit of the confidence his father had when he was younger; Charlie got his father's thoughtful, caring nature he showed more often in private; Percy was more like fuddy-duddy Daddy Prewett than a Weasley it seemed but Fred and George made up for it by their father's humor and zest for life shining out in such a way that it bounced back and forth until it exploded for all to see.

Molly would never let them know, lest they take it as encouragement and make their home even more of a mad house than it already was, but they were like their father writ large before the long years of toil had dimmed that light and ingrained this world-weariness in him that nothing seemed to lift. If she had one hope for them as a mother though it'd be that nothing ever divide them since once that happened it would be much more likely the same thing would happen to them. Hopefully any girls they found would be able to appreciate that.

The one Harry'd be most likely to approach though was probably the one least likely to be able to help. Molly didn't know if it was all the stress and worry they'd had during the war that affected him or what but Ronald has always had this great indifference about him. It's as if he'd already developed his father's world-weariness himself.

'The boy's twelve years old!' she thought to herself as she tried to figure him out. 'What great burdens has he carried to have gotten him so downtrodden? Harry's had to handle a hundred times as much as Ron's ever had to this summer alone and is only now getting into a bad state about it. He, on the other hand, seems to have taken one look at his father and decided it was best not to try.'

If she could just get the great gloomy grump to take one step in any direction then maybe he could gain some momentum with something. Perhaps that 'at least an A' rule would help nudge him to grow one way or another or that preoccupation with Quidditch would. Merlin knew if he sat still any longer he'd be harder to uproot than a stubborn mandrake.

Looking at it from this distance, perhaps letting the boys comfort him was the wrong thing to do after all. But still, she couldn't just walk out there and ask him what's bothering him. What boy would talk to a mother-like figure – be she an adoptive mother or no – while in sight of his friends? Harry might be a kinder boy than any of hers but no boy she ever met would open himself up to that kind of ribbing, and no amount of scolding would fend it off.

Maybe she should write to–

An abrupt brrrumpt! from somewhere above stopped the line of thought as curiosity as to what could have broken the house's silence took over. There hadn't been anything that loud or sudden since Arthur's blasted ghoul had been removed from the attic. The man himself may have moaned as much as it ever had when he found out but eventually he'd had to accept there was simply no reforming them.

'What mischief is Bill up to now?' Molly thought as she made her way through the living room. 'Putting a boggart under Harry's bed most like. What better way to ward off what's on his mind than to make him confront the worst thing he can imagine?'

When she looked up the stairwell though Bill was already on a level above her looking upwards for answers.

"What's going on?" she quietly asked up to her son. "Is Percy moving furniture about?"

"No, it didn't come from his room," he replied, "It came from my– er – Harry's room. Did the boys come back in yet?"

"Of course not," Molly said. "They'll be out there for hours."

"I'm going to go and check it out," Bill said with a grim face that made her nervous. The nervousness mounted with every step he took so before he'd gone three paces she was already on her way up to join him.

'Merlin, if it is a boggart the fool boy could get himself killed taking it on alone,' she said to herself as she followed her son.

She got to the door just in time for Bill to go charging through and before she'd even had time to exchange the paper for her wand. Poking her head inside though it was hard to tell which of the room's three inhabitants was the most surprised: the brown-haired girl who'd immediately put her hands up as if caught stealing cookies, the brown-haired house-elf caught peeking in a wicker basket, or the snowy owl on the disturbed desk that actually lived here. She might only have had a passing acquaintance to the smallest two but Bill seemed to take it all in stride, even going so far as to chuckle as he put away his wand.

"You know, if Harry's going to keep you imprisoned up here," he said with a grin, "the least he can do is invite you down for breakfast."

"Bill, that's not appropriate," she scolded him with a light swat with the paper, his joke telling her instantly who the girl was. While her hair was very wavy it certainly didn't look like the frizzy mane it'd been described to be. "You must be Hermione," Molly said as she came into the room and gave the girl a pleasant smile. "I've heard some very nice things about you," she said as she extended her hand in welcome.

"And you must be Molly Weasley," the girl said accepting it with a pleasant smile of her own. "Harry's told me good things about you too."

"Bill," she said turning back to her son and using the paper to gesture for him to leave. "Why don't you go on back to your room while I fill Hermione in on our little Harry problem?"

"There's a problem with Harry?" the girl asked anxiously as she hitched her book bag up higher on her shoulder as if she were about to charge off that very instant. "Where is he? Is he alright?"

'Oh, yes,' Molly thought to herself and couldn't help but smile. 'This girl will do fine.'

.o0O0o.

A streak of motion darted across the orchard before a polite cheer and clapping accompanied the latest goal. Harry didn't know if the guys were letting Ginny win just to make their mother happy but it definitely seemed like they were going easy on her from where he sat. He was only paying it half a mind though so the truth could've been very different; Ron's protests that it was all beginner's luck seemed particularly genuine.

It made him think about what their lives would've been like if they had never even heard of him at all. Without him playing, Fred and George would've had a better Quidditch season last year; Wood would've found someone who wouldn't have been unconscious for their last match and blown their chances for the Cup. Ron might've even taken his place as Seeker for Gryffindor and had a better year too; at the very least he wouldn't have had to deal with Fluffy, Norbert–a, and the Sorcerer's Stone. And without him there wouldn't have been any 'Boy Who Lived' books, meaning Ginny would've been a completely different person.

Of course, without him there might not have been a Fred, George, or Ron at Hogwarts at all though too. There'd have been no Bill, Charlie, Percy, or Ginny there either for that matter and Voldemort would still be out there killing people. So maybe their lives could've been a lot worse, but they could've been better too. Maybe Mr. Weasley could've gotten a better job or Mrs. Weasley could've – he didn't know, but something.

Harry didn't want to think about any of this but from where he sat he didn't have a choice. It seemed as though every time he turned around he was learning something else about his life that was messed up – like Dumbledore abandoning him at the Dursleys and stealing his parents' money – only to turn around again and discover it was a little bit better – like he put some protections in place – before it became a lot worse – but failed to punish them for treating him as an subhuman monster and keeping him there for ten years when he'd only needed to be there a day.

It'd be nice to think turning over every good thing Dumbledore's ever done would uncover some underhanded reason to do it but turning over every bad thing seems to have uncovered something slightly good beneath it too, like it did with the Weasleys. Harry just didn't get it; why couldn't the old man just be one thing? And why couldn't he just leave him alone? It'd be so much easier to really start to hate him if he didn't live with people whose lives have been made better by what he should hate him for. Was it too much to ask for there to be one person who was exactly what they seemed like from the beginning?

"Apple?" a girl's voice asked from somewhere close by. Turning, Harry saw it was the Luna girl from yesterday in a lime green dress with an apple in one hand and her shoes and a blue pail in the other; he hadn't even heard her approach. "One a day keeps the Healer at bay. I've got some freshwater plimpies too, if you prefer," the blond girl said hefting the pail she carried. "They're better as soup though."

"What's a plimpy?" he asked the odd girl not knowing if he really wanted to know. Fortunately, rather than the strange, mind-spinning explanation she and her father gave yesterday this one was straight-forward.

"Plimpies are a kind of fish-frog creature that usually live in lakes," Luna said as she set down the pail and apple before dipping her hand into it drawing out one of the tiny creatures. It looked like a light green goldfish with long thin legs it used to waddle around on her hand before falling back into the pail with a sploosh! "Years and years ago some of them got lost and wound up in a stream near our house," she explained with grey eyes that seemed to stare right through him.

"That's what my dad says anyway; I think he may have put them there and forgot. Either way," Luna continued, "those plimpies used to be purple but now they've gotten smaller, taken on this greenish color, and become sweeter-tasting when fully grown. They overrun the stream too quickly though so if we don't eat them regularly they try to walk off and find other places to live, and they can't breathe for long. I was going to see if they do any better in the pond here."

"Luna!" Ginny called excitedly as she landed some distance away.

"Good luck with that," Harry said to Luna before she left to join the other girl and disappeared off somewhere. She'd left the apple though; he picked it up and tossed it from hand to hand.

"Hey Harry!" George called gesturing for him to join them in the air. "Come on."

Since he didn't have anything else to do Harry stood and walked over to where his broom was propped up against a tree next to Ginny's. With a kick off he soon found himself up with the Weasleys. George looked at him curiously.

"What have you got?" the boy asked before Harry tossed him the apple. "Hey Fred, you remember when we used to play with these?" he asked his twin as he passed him the fruit.

"We still can," Fred said with a smile before whipping around and throwing it at Ron's head.

"Oi!" the third boy cried as he ducked out of the way. "What's that for?"

"Bludger!" Fred and George said with twin grins.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said looking in the direction of the Burrow. "Does Hermione have a sister?"

He resisted the urge to look in that direction only to see Bill again.

"Not that I know of, why?" he asked.

"Because it's either that or she's learned to Apparate," George replied for him while looking in the same direction.

"I don't know which would be more frightening," Fred added with a shake of his head.

Finally turning around on his broom, Harry saw that it actually was Hermione walking towards them and just reaching the orchard. Surprised, he quickly found himself slipping off his seat and had to scramble just to keep one hand clutching it. Hermione stopped short with wide eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he dangled there.

"Hello to you too," she said in return as she hitched up her book bag.

"Er– Hi, but–," Harry started before looking down and dropping the five feet to the ground. "How did you get here?" he asked as his Nimbus took his departure as an excuse to fly itself into the trunk of the nearest tree so he had to dart off to catch it.

"Apparition," Hermione answered, though whether she'd heard what Fred had said before he didn't know. George though admitted defeat immediately.

"That's it," the boy said with his hands up, "I'm going inside to do homework."

"What? Why?" his twin asked disbelievingly as they both landed.

"She's Apparating before her Second Year," George said gesturing to Hermione. "How do you explain that?"

Hermione seemed keen to do just that, even going so far as to open her mouth before thinking better of it and keeping her silence, which he found exceedingly odd. She'd never been shy of telling anyone exactly how to do anything, even things they already knew, so her not telling them how she got here made it seem fishier than one of Luna's plimpies. And for some reason he couldn't shake the thought there was something odd about her head, but what it was he couldn't put his finger on.

"Just because I can't explain it doesn't mean anything," Fred groused as he followed his brother off through the trees. "Besides, if we do it now then next year Mum'll be hounding us to do it as soon as we get back and that's no way to spend a summer…"

"Did you really Apparate here?" Ron asked her as he came down and dismounted as well.

"Technically, yes," she answered, drawing herself up defensively in a way all but shouting at Harry he was right about his suspicions.

"Technically?" he asked with a curious look.

Hermione looked at him with her patented 'you two just broke the rules' look only for it to falter as she met his eye. Before he could even think about the change it faded away entirely and her eyes flickered towards Ron. Harry was left somewhat stunned; if he'd known it would have calmed her down this much he would've asked her out a long time ago.

"I say technically because it was through Apparition," she explained. "It'd be closer to say 'I was Apparated' rather than 'I Apparated' though but I don't know if there's a word for that."

"That's side-along Apparition," Ron said looking at her curiously. "It's where a witch or wizard Apparates and takes you along for the ride. But who brought you here?"

"A new friend of mine," she said with a meaningful look at Harry, making him pretty sure that friend was around two feet tall and had a habit of calling her 'Miss Knee.'

"And you didn't tell Fred and George because you didn't know the right word?" Harry asked.

Suddenly a smile spread across her face which did some very pleasant things to his midsection.

"They just said they were going off to study," Hermione reminded them. "You didn't think I was going to do anything to stop them, did you? I hardly saw them crack a book last year."

"You pranked them," Ron chuckled. "You! Who are you and where's Hermione?"

"I merely let them think what they were already thinking," she said as if pranking was some kind of offense. "Not correcting them isn't what I'd call a prank, and in this case it might actually help them."

"Yes, I'm sure if they study they could be louder than ever," Harry said with a grin.

Hermione, however, was not amused.

"I meant with their grades," she clarified before turning to Ron. "Speaking of which, you need to get started on your homework too. Your mother said you haven't even started yet."

"We've got plenty of time," he protested.

"You may have plenty of time but I may not get to be here every day," she countered. "I'd feel better about you getting that 'A' you need if I look over your answers before you turn them in."

Ron opened his mouth to protest again before closing it to glance at Harry with a bit of a grin.

"Oh, yeah," he said with a look like he was getting away with something right under Professor McGonagall's nose. "I'm going to need to get them all right if I'm going to get that 'A.' Right, Harry?"

Harry felt his stomach drop as he caught what Ron was doing but the redhead pushed ahead by gathering up the rest of the brooms and quickly heading towards the house. This left him with the uncomfortable decision of whether to help Ron by letting Hermione continue to think he needed what they considered an A or tell her all Ron really needed was a C. In the end it wasn't even close, though he did feel a pang of guilt at ratting him out.

"Hang on," he said as the reason for her continued smile dawned on him. "You already know all this, don't you?"

"Yes, but thank you for telling me anyway," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek. "You should've seen Professor Flitwick's face though when I asked what I had to do to make sure I got an A in his class," Hermione said with an even bigger smile making the image of their tiny Charms teacher with his head tilted over to one side suddenly pop into his mind. She could probably light him on fire and he'd still give her an O for how well she did it. "Molly also made sure I knew the difference when she told me about her Quidditch rule and suggested I find some way of sending Ron off to study."

"Why would she do that?" Harry asked his face heating up as he suddenly became aware he was standing very much alone in the middle of an orchard with his girlfriend, who'd just kissed him, while everyone else was far away from them.

"Because she's worried about you," Hermione said with a face full of concern and taking them into a safer though less pleasant area of conversation than he'd been expecting as their feet started moving them slowly towards the Burrow. "She knows this has been a rough summer for you and thinks you aren't taking it well."

"Well, how would you take it if the person you trusted turned out to be a slimy, two-faced weasel?" he asked, not really knowing who he meant by that; probably more Dumbledore than Lichfield at the moment.

"I'd most likely think I wouldn't be able to trust anyone at all," she said rightly. "But Lichfield is supposed to be on your side on this, Harry," Hermione said, letting him know her little talk with Mrs. Weasley had covered more than just grades. "And while his methods may be a bit… out of the ordinary, fighting with him could be disastrous."

"How could fighting him be disastrous?" Harry asked, though when he thought about it doing so hadn't done Lockhart any favors.

"Because he's your lawyer and we've already seen how this world doesn't have the same professional ethics ours does," Hermione explained. "What if he stops working for you, or worse, starts working against you?" she asked. "He could throw your case on purpose and you'd be stuck back with the Dursleys forever."

"That's never going to happen," Harry said defiantly, though the possibility it could felt like he'd been kicked in the gut.

"While it's unlikely after all the effort they've gone through," Hermione agreed, "that's not to say he won't just quit if he doesn't feel appreciated. Remember, from everything you've said he's doing this because he was your grandfather's friend, not because he's yours. And there are real benefits to be gained by being his friend."

Harry had to admit that until the Sirius Black thing had come up things had been going pretty well, Lichfield's tight-lipped secrecy aside that is. The fact Dobby was away from the Malfoys and he was safe from Dumbledore was due to his work, as well as him knowing about what the old man had done in the past. And it wasn't just him who'd benefited; Hermione's made friends with Mipsy, they've learned more about the wizarding world than they ever had at school, and he was even paying for Luna to go to Hogwarts.

His stomach fell again with a lurch. Was Lichfield still going to take care of Luna's education after he yelled at him like that? Hermione was right, the grizzled old bailiff was doing what he did because 'that's what Charlus would do,' but Harry doubted his grandfather would've yelled at the man until he'd disappeared right before his eyes. Who was to say what would happen if the man ever came back, or even if he would? Suddenly his complaints didn't seem to matter that much anymore.

Hermione bumped his shoulder to draw him from his thoughts as they reached the edge of the trees.

"So what was it you and Lichfield fought about?" she asked as she took his hand as they walked. "Molly said you suddenly got upset and ran from the house."

"It's odd to hear you call her Molly," Harry said to deflect himself away from oddity of holding hands with his best friend and how much he liked it.

"I always got on well with my teachers before, and after our conversation yesterday I thought it might be helpful to have adult friends, outside the parental context," Hermione explained referring to her dad. "Plus, if I call her that it might be easier for you to make the transition. But no distractions," she chided him with a look saying she didn't really mean it, "we were talking about you."

"Me leaving didn't have anything to do with him, it had to do with Dumbledore," he said as he raked his other hand through his hair. "The fight with Lichfield happened last night."

"Last night?" she asked with a curious look. "When last night? Because I saw him then and he didn't say anything about it."

"What was he doing at your house?" Harry asked trying to put the pieces together.

"Mipsy kind of kidnapped him when I asked if I could see him," Hermione said with a bit of a guilty look as if she somehow should have known it would happen when she'd asked. "I wanted to thank him for introducing us and I think she gets a little overeager sometimes," she explained before a disgruntled look settled on her face for a moment for some reason.

"Oh, so that's why he disappeared," he said as things stitched themselves together in his head. "I just thought he got mad and left."

"What was it about though?" she asked.

"It's not important," Harry replied shrugging the whole thing off. 'What did it matter who did what way back when and why?' he asked himself. "I just want the whole thing over with."

"Well, if it's truly not important then it's no wonder he didn't mention it," Hermione said in a bit more of airy tone as she bumped his shoulder again. "I don't know how old wizarding bailiffs behave but if they're anything like what our version was like they probably wouldn't tell outsiders anything lest it reflect badly on the family," she said with a look saying he should make up with Lichfield for whatever it was.

"If it was about Dumbledore though," she continued as her hand left his and she took her book bag off her shoulder to rummage through it. "There's a bit of news on that front," Hermione smiled as she presented him with a copy of the Daily Prophet. "It looks like Lichfield got that story in the paper really fast."

Any leftover ill feelings Harry had towards the old bailiff dwindled rapidly when he saw a blushing Dumbledore on the front page being proclaimed as a romance writer for the entire world to see. He might not like how the man kept him in the dark about things but he had to admit when he wanted things done, they got done. Harry chuckled at the thought of what everyone at Hogwarts would say when they got back and saw this.

"Feeling better?" his girlfriend asked with a grin as something else clicked for him.

"Did you do something different with your hair?" he asked.

Hermione's smile hit him full beam, "Actually, yes. It's something that–"

The door to the Burrow bursting open interrupted her and Ron came out with a grin of his own that even from a distance loudly proclaimed he still hadn't been anywhere near his homework yet.

"Hey Harry!" his ginger-headed friend called. "You've got to get in here; you won't believe it! Dumbledore's been sacked!"

.o0O0o.

It turned out Dumbledore had not been sacked; he had resigned. And despite Ron saying it amounted to the same thing, Hermione insisted there was a difference. The only thing that could've made huddling around the wireless with the other Weasleys any better would've been if the old man had stepped down from Hogwarts too and not just the Ministry, but all the commentary asking whether this had anything to do with his "best-selling romantic novels" made up for it.

When Bill left Harry noticed Mrs. We–Mol–easley looked decidedly uncomfortable during the 'Boy Who Lived' part of the broadcast but soon enough the brief news bulletin was over and the wireless flipped back to some mid-morning soap opera. Fred and George were quickly shooed off to their room after they made jokes about whether 'The Boy Who Lived' series would be made into broadcasts as well. She then carried the wireless with her when she went to the kitchen and left the rest of them to entertain themselves.

With both Percy and Hermione there talk quickly turned to the next school year and Ron seemed to melt away and slide upstairs as if he could somehow be infected by it. With his girlfriend busy giving the older boy her thoughts on what she was looking for in a Defense study group Harry took the opportunity to go and talk to the boy's mother. He did have to double back though because he'd left the paper on the couch next to Hermione, but he did get a nice smile from her for the effort.

Mrs. Weasley was hunched over the wireless when he entered the kitchen.

"Oh! Harry, dear," she said starting up with a hand to her chest, "I didn't see you there."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said.

"Nonsense, dear," she said with a wave. "Did you need something?"

"Er– No, it's just…" Harry said as he returned the Daily Prophet to her, his words dying off when he didn't know how to put into words what he wanted to say. "Thanks," he said finally, hoping she knew what he meant.

With a smile she got down to his level and pulled him into a hug. At the moment he didn't know what the difference was between this hug and the last one she'd given him but this one felt so much more embarrassing for some reason. If Fred and George, Hermione, or even Percy came in and saw it Harry didn't know how he'd ever live it down.

"You're very welcome, dear," she said when she finally let him go. "And I just want to let you know," the woman said when he turned to go. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always come to me. I may not have the right answers all the time," she said with a chagrined look as if grumbling to herself, "but I have a nice big shoulder should you ever need it."

"Er– Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said as he flattened his hair.

"Oh, please, dear, it's Molly," Mrs. Weasley said as she stood again.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to calling you that," Harry said with a shrug.

"Just tuck that behind your ear then," she smiled and patted his head. "You may grow into it."

.o0O0o.

With a burst of speed to rival the best broom, sporty girl Ginevra Weasley darted towards her goal, her flame-colored ponytail streaming along behind her. So far her plan was going great; she had woken up early, dressed to play hard, and even defied her mother when she tried to stop her. Everything was going so well that even her brothers had to back down accept her into their game, and though Resentful Ron grumbled the entire time, even he couldn't best her at Quidditch – even with the new broom!

And to top it off, Harry had been forced to sit there and watch how much fun they were having without him. This time she was the fun and exciting one and he was the one feeling all alone and left moping by himself. He got to see the fun, wild, and sporty side of her and just when things started to look up for him when Luna arrived she had disappeared with the other girl just as fast as she could.

It was sure to gnaw at him and make him wish they had stayed, or at least had asked him to come along. Boys were stupid though and never saw what was right in front of them so it'd probably take him a while before he got the point. That's where the next part of her plan came in, and it was genius.

Pushing open the door she raced inside, surprising Harry and making him have to dart out of the way before continuing to the living room to sit next to Percy and some wavy-haired girl. With a brief spike of hope she wondered if this was the mysterious Penelope her brother was dating; she couldn't wait to get new sisters. She hadn't been able to get a look at her back at Diagon Alley but this girl looked too young to be a Prefect somehow.

"Ginny, what do you think you're doing?" her mother chided her, instantly putting the plan on the brink of failure.

She was supposed to get the first word in, not become distracted by things that didn't matter. 'Merlin, Ginny, stop ruining things for Ginevra!' she mentally thumped herself. She couldn't dangle just out of Harry's reach if she's constantly hanging on every little thing going on around him and what she was doing was far more important than some girl.

Surprisingly, her mother had a torn look on her face as if she didn't know what to say next.

"You're tracking mud all over the floor, dear," she said finally. "I don't mind you playing outside if you want but leave the mess out there. I've got a hard enough time cleaning up after the boys," her mother said, whipping out her wand and vanishing the dirt she'd brought in with her, though her jeans were still a bit wet from the pond.

That hadn't been what she'd been expecting her mother to say at all. She was supposed to come in, ask her question, and – if she was lucky – get what she wanted after promising to be a good little girl inside for the rest of the day. The whole exchange should've been impossible if her mother spoke first, which she did, and she hadn't sentenced her to her room or anything; Ginny really didn't know what to do from this point.

"Can I spend the night at Luna's?" she asked wondering why she wasn't in trouble.

"Oh, certainly, Ginny, dear," her mother said as if wondering if it was the right thing to say. "As long as it's alright with her father," she added before looking to Luna.

"He's quite happy at the moment," airy blonde said, signaling her dad was sure to agree. "He said he's found a kindred spirit in uncovering hidden secrets the Ministry doesn't want people to know."

"That's nice, dear," her mother said with a polite smile that made Ginny nervous.

It was starting to feel like everything since the moment they'd come in was some kind of trap just waiting to be sprung. 'Why was Mum being so strange?' she wondered before darting her eyes to the living room and back. 'Was it because of Penelope?'

"You two run along now and give Xeno my best," her mother said with a dismissive gesture. "And tell him to call if he needs anything."

After that there was really nothing to do but go back outside, or so she'd thought.

"Hello again, Hermione Granger," Luna said behind her.

With a wave of ice cold dread passing over her she followed her friend's eyes to the girl sitting next to Harry. As the girl smiled in acknowledgment Ginny felt the trap snap shut. How was he supposed to get to know and like her sporty side, and to miss it when she's gone, if that – that – that girl was there to take her place?!

And worse, she couldn't go back on things now without looking stupid! That girl had tricked her somehow! She was going to be forced out of the house while that girl would be there with him for who knows how long. It was a disaster!

"Come on," she said to Luna as she spun around to leave. That girl wasn't going to get so much as a 'hello' from her.

To make matters worse, on the small dirt path that'd eventually take you to the muggle village Ginny saw the grumpy old man Harry called a litigator suddenly appear with another one of those little elves and she angled her angry march to take her as far away from them as fast as possible. She wanted to say this day couldn't get any worse but with her luck Harry and that girl would be in a magically binding marriage contract before she even got home! Ginny could only hope her mother hadn't been lying about those not being used anymore.

"Is something wrong?" Luna asked as she skipped along beside her.

"Yes, we don't talk to her," Ginny told her as they made the trek over to her friend's house. She hadn't planned to leave for hours yet but what's the point in waiting when staying would be torture? "She's the enemy."

"Has anyone told her that?" the other girl asked as she settled down for the walk. "She was nice when we met before. Easily confused, but nice."

'Wait,' Ginny thought, 'She had said "hello again," but how had they had met before? And when?' She scoured her memory for any hint but wasn't about to give the girl inside the pleasure of knowing she didn't know by asking Luna. Precisely how she'd know she didn't know, but she knew she'd know somehow. And then it clicked, 'The Hopefuls meeting, she must have gone as his date! She's not a Hopeful, and I was going to be; she shouldn't have been there at all! Why couldn't she be some money-grubbing girl and just go home after shopping?'

How was that girl ahead of her on everything? It just wasn't fair!

.o0O0o.

Compared to Hermione's studying-based take on a Defense study group, Harry thought what he was looking for seemed kind of… lacking. Rather than the detailed list of information she wanted on every creature they could encounter – like what they were, where they lived, how to identify them, what they could do that was dangerous, what weaknesses they had, and what you could do to protect yourself against them – all derived, no doubt, from her impromptu tirade against Lockhart's books the other day, though the whole thing with the troll probably helped, his boiled down to "teach me how to survive in a fight."

Perhaps he hadn't really thought about it enough but besides for Fluffy, the-dragon-formerly-known-as-Norbert, and a plant that tried to strangle you the biggest threats he faced last year was a troll and a wizard who wanted to kill him. Lest he cause the world to explode again and prompt Percy to run around yelling "BREACH!" at the top of his lungs, Harry let the older boy continue to think Quirrell had acted alone and had nothing to do with him being possessed by the disembodied spirit of Voldemort. When he gave his reasons though Percy had a different outlook entirely.

"It's interesting you put it that way, actually," the older boy said as he seemed to mull things over. "The dueling book you let me borrow said pretty much the same thing. The introduction splits things up between Creature combat, where your only real weakness is your own ignorance, and Intelligent combat, where your weakness is their strengths."

"How is that a difference?" the girl between them asked, her keen mind focusing on the tiniest of hairs to split. "Your weakness in both areas is still your own lack of knowledge."

"It's different because Creatures – whether they're trolls, dragons, or bugbears – are always going to be the same," Percy explained. "And once you learn about them you're going to be able to defend yourself against any of them you come across as long as you keep your wits about you. No matter how much you study though you're never going to know if the witch or wizard you're facing has some hidden trick up their sleeve until they use it on you; that's why the writers chose to focus on the wizarding duel as the highest form of combat."

Something odd clicked in the back of his mind.

"Hang on," Harry said poking Hermione in the side and causing her to twitch reflexively. "Are you saying you didn't read your new books immediately after you got them?" he asked with a smile.

"I was focusing on dark creatures and had more important things on my mind," she said a little less defensively than usual. "Like getting to be here."

Any more talk was cut off by a knock on the door and Harry felt his stomach drop. It was the first time anyone had knocked on the door since Dumbledore. He must not have been the only one to have made the connection since Mrs. Weasley glanced to him on her way to answer it.

"Oh, Mr. Lichfield," she said in an uncomfortable voice which carried more than usual. "What brings you here?"

"Just the usual," the man replied. "Running around, filing papers, checking in with the boss. Is he in?"

The change from being 'the boy' to 'the boss' was one he was strangely uncomfortable with, though it probably had to do with the fight which prompted it. It wasn't until he felt a warm reassuring hand stroking his back he noticed how tense he'd gotten and Harry didn't know if it was that, the sympathetic look Hermione gave him, or just her being there which helped the most. He didn't want to say anything in front of Percy or everyone else so he gave her as much of a thankful smile and a nudge as he could muster.

"Since I'm here," the old bailiff said to her as they made their way closer, "I thought I'd remind you and Arthur to stop by the bank at some point so you can set up how you wanted to handle your family's checking and transfer payments before your next lease payment comes due."

If Harry had thought that things couldn't get any more tense and awkward he was wrong. Mrs. Weasley looked at him and he tried to conjure up everything he could remember about what Lichfield had said to him before. He had been wrong in what he'd told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?

"I thought you said we couldn't collect rent until the whole guardianship thing is taken care of," he said curiously; he definitely remembered the man saying that at one point.

"For the people who take you up on the offer to come back to the land, sure," Lichfield agreed. "Since we can't offer them a formal lease until it's resolved we can't really take in rent from them. Everyone who already has a lease though…"

The old bailiff trailed off as his eyes darted between him and Mrs. Weasley. He must have put two and two together because the next moment he put his gnarled poking finger next to his nose and winked and then pointed to him.

"But you wanted a deferment as part of that deal, didn't you?" the man asked in a friendly growl with a bit of a shake to his finger. "It wouldn't surprise me if they forgot to include it," he added before turning to Mrs. Weasley. "One of the gofers in Legal actually lost the agreement we made up the first time around, if you can believe it…," Lichfield said as Harry glanced at Hermione.

"It means they won't have to pay while you're here," she translated for him in a whisper.

"–Don't worry about it; I'll look into it," the old bailiff said to Molly. "It's most likely an error on our part. If need be I'll run over an amendment for the boy to sign. That'll take care of it. I'm a little rusty in the management department," he added in an aside before putting a finger to his lips to say they should keep quiet about that.

Anyone with half a brain knew what he was really doing though, Harry had misunderstood him before and now Lichfield was covering for him by making it look like he was the one at fault rather than what it was. That put things into stark relief; Dumbledore hid things to cover his own tracks while Lichfield did it to cover yours. Hermione, who had enough brains to have half a brain tied behind her back, another half left at home, and a third half thinking about something else, still had more than enough left over to figure it out and nudged him in an 'see what I was talking about?' kind of way.

He knew she was right but that didn't make it any easier. "About last night–," Harry said before the litigator cut him off.

"Let's take a walk, shall we?" Lichfield asked nodding towards the door.

This must've been acceptable to Hermione since she gave him a little push to stand, giving him no choice but to go or to fall off the couch. Even with that, and the supportive smile Molly gave him, walking to the door still felt like being hauled to McGonagall's office – only this time he didn't know if he'd done anything wrong or just felt that way.

Standing in the Weasley's garden again it became rather obvious neither of them knew how to begin. Was there a way to apologize for what you said but not for the reasons you said it? Harry doubted 'Sorry for being an arse but I was absolutely right, you know. We friends again?' would help matters much. Instead he brought up something else that was on his mind.

"I know you said it'd be squandering my inheritance," he said by way of breaking the ice, "but I thought about selling – or maybe just giving – this place to them once this whole thing is over with."

"As a way of saying 'thanks for all your help,' and to get out of the sticky situation of your friends paying you to live here?" Lichfield asked pinning it exactly, though when he said it that way it didn't really sound like the adult thing to do. "It's a nice gesture," the old bailiff said making a gesture of his own, indicating the Weasleys' low stone fence would be a suitable distance away to talk. "They're good people.

"No matter what I may have said before," the old bailiff continued as their steps took them away from the house, "you shouldn't feel like you're under any obligation to keep things the way they are just because it's the way they always were. Too many people already have that idea stuck in their heads without me putting it in yours, and what's the use of getting you the freedom to do what you want if you don't do what you want with it?"

"Right," Harry said feeling a bit better now they were actually talking.

"It's an easy thing to set up," he added, "We might have to wait until your next birthday but once we get the guardianship sorted out we can get that taken care of. And speaking of him," Lichfield said dipping his hand in his pocket, "I suppose I can show you this."

'This' turned out to be the morning's Daily Prophet.

"Oh yeah, I saw that," he said smiling as the black-and-white Dumbledore blushed at him. "It was on the wireless too. Did you hear he resigned from the Ministry?"

"From the Wizengamot?" Lichfield asked curiously. "I thought it would've been harder than that," he said with a look. "I expected him to fight tooth and nail but I guess Fudge didn't want to back him on it. Still, with him, the I.C.W. could pose the biggest problems for us, that's why I filed for an injunction to keep him in the country until your case is settled."

"You think he'll run away?" Harry asked suddenly imagining the headmaster hectically loading up trunks full of socks and books and dragging them away just one step ahead of a mob of angry villagers.

"Less that than finding him under arrest and shipped off to the Continent for trial," the bailiff said with a wave. "This whole Stone thing has really fouled things up and made it a lot more complicated than it needs to be, and if the old man gets pulled away we may never be able to undo what he's done."

"What do you mean?" he asked as they reached the fence, feeling like he'd just swallowed one of the stones that made it.

"Well, if the I.C.W. gets their hands on him they're not likely to let him out to represent himself and you'll be hard-pressed to find someone willing to represent him if he's already in jail for something else," Lichfield explained. "It means they could declare you fit to be your own man but we'd miss out on recouping your losses because our case against him is stalled. There are still pending lawsuits on known Death Eaters because the cases against them can't go forward; the Ministry was so quick to throw them in Azkaban that it ended up hurting the victims again."

"That's horrible," Harry said.

"Yeah, the system's broken, but no one in power has ever felt the need to fix it," the older man said. "In cases like that the best you can hope for is their families to declare them legally dead and the Wizengamot orders the inheritors to settle."

"How can you just make someone dead when they're not dead?" he asked curiously.

"You mean besides killing them?" Lichfield asked with a twisted grin. "Relax," the man said as he sat on the Weasleys' fence, "it's just a simple legal procedure that proclaims as far as the law is concerned they're considered dead, whether or not they actually are."

"Oh," Harry said as he joined him on the small wall.

"It doesn't actually kill them, it just frees up their estate to be inherited," his litigator explained. "It's typically reserved for immediate family members to use on those who're sent to Azkaban, because more than likely they're never coming out. The Ministry did do a blanket one after the war though for everyone who disappeared when You-Know-Who was killing people, but I guess it was them tidying up loose ends so people could move on."

"But what if they're not really dead?" he asked.

"Then they'd better hope no one kills them before they get it reversed," Lichfield replied with a look, "You can't go to jail for killing a dead man. But speaking of technicalities, I filed your case against Dumbledore today. The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will want to talk to you to make sure this is what you want, and after that the timing of things will depend on the Wizengamot."

"Right," Harry said numbly as the reality of things finally hit him.

"I can try to keep you out of it as much as possible," the old bailiff said, "but with your popularity and his, odds are they'll want to drag you in so they can gawk at you for a while. And that's not even mentioning what could happen when the Prophet gets a hold of this."

Harry felt his stomach drop even more. He hadn't considered he might join Lockhart and Dumbledore on the front page. Suddenly, never leaving the fence seemed like a really good idea.

"To manage how it's handled I made a deal with a certain reporter," Lichfield explained. "I tell them information in secret and they don't bother you trying to get it."

"Mr. Lovegood?" he asked wondering if the wizarding world was really as small as it seemed since he remembered the man had something to do with publishing.

"No, this one's less savory," the litigator replied as if to say it'd be best not to ask.

"Are you really paying for Luna to go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked hopefully.

"McGonagall tell you about that, did she?" Lichfield said with a raised eyebrow a moment before he gave a dismissive wave. "I had it lying around, so I figured I might as well," the man said with a gruff voice Harry was willing to bet was hiding the fact the man was doing it for him more than he was for her.

"Thanks," he told the man anyway since he deserved it. Strangely, it also made what came next easier to say. "I'm sorry I blew up at you last night," Harry said finally.

"Bah, don't be," the old bailiff said shrugging it off. "It wasn't exactly the best way to bring it up, and I can't say I hadn't earned the rest of it either. Our position might be that you being twelve should mean you're old enough to go off on your own but that doesn't make it any easier figuring out what to tell you and what you're better off not having to worry about."

"Maybe, but I'm tired of not knowing things and then having them sprung on me," he said stubbornly. "I know about the protection Dumbledore gave to the Dursleys."

"Do you?" Lichfield asked looking at him oddly. "How the hell you know that?"

"Bill showed me earlier."

"Huh, that kid works pretty quick," the older man said appraisingly. "I found it the other day when I looked into those relatives of yours and what connection they had to Dumbledore. I found a letter he left when he dropped you off on their doorstep, explaining what was going on."

"Can I see it?" Harry asked.

"I'd prefer not; at least not right now," Lichfield replied before gesturing to the house. "It still has whatever enchantment that is on it, and I know for a fact it's still working since it applied itself to your cousin while I was there. Once it's broken, or we know for sure what it's supposed to do, it might be safe to let you touch it. Will that do for you? Or I could copy it down, I suppose."

"No, that's alright," he replied not really knowing what he wanted.

"You're not really missing much," the bailiff said. "It's just a general rigmarole with no real substance to it. I could read it a hundred times and still not understand how the man could have left you with people like that."

It was then that something else that'd been bothering him bubbled up to the surface.

"How did you know Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked looking up at him.

Lichfield looked at him as if still struggling with how much to tell him.

"It was at your grandparents' funeral," he said gruffly before clarifying, "your mother's parents; they died around Christmas in your parents' seventh year. She and James had gotten together some time before that, after he'd chased her for years, and he was anxious to introduce her to his parents, so he arranged for her to visit them that holiday. That's where she was when she learned…"

Lichfield trailed off for a moment and Harry didn't need the words to know how bad of a Christmas that would've been.

"Your aunt said it was a drunk in one of those automocars," the man said when he continued. "Naturally, the family went with her and paid their respects, along with some of your parents' friends," Lichfield paused a moment and gave him a good look before going on. "Your aunt wasn't doing so well and there was a misunderstanding over what magic couldn't do–"

He didn't have to say what that would be; Harry already knew.

"It was obvious it was the grief talking, and we likely could've talked her around if it wasn't for the great oaf of hers butting in and making it worse," the old bailiff said. "I don't think they talked much after that. I don't know where they lived, or even remember where they're buried, but I could try to find out if you want."

"N–," was the only sound he could make before his eyes burned and it felt like an invisible snitch lodged itself in his throat. It helped to turn away so he wasn't looking at anything in particular. When he could speak again he asked, "Where are my parents?"

Lichfield was so quiet that for a while Harry wondered if he was going to respond at all.

"They're behind this little church in Godric's Hollow," the man said finally. "A cozy place, though not what I would've chosen. The house your family lived in for a while is there too," he said, speaking into the continued silence. "After his parents died I don't think James could bring himself to stay in their house. We spoke by mail after that; I didn't even know where he'd gone. I didn't blame him; it wasn't a time for trusting people."

"I want to see them," Harry said. "Not – not now," he clarified knowing there was no way he'd be up to it for a while, "but… sometime."

Lichfield nodded. "I always found cold and miserable weather was good for that."

He couldn't bring himself to nod but knew he didn't have to. Lichfield would take care of it.

.o0O0o.

As she looked out the window to watch how the reconciliation was getting on she couldn't help but hear the crass commercialism leap out from what the wizarding world classified as 'quality mid-morning entertainment.'

"The cold touch of your skin has never failed to make my heart beat faster. Faster than the fastest of brooms!" the witch on the wireless said breathlessly. "–The all-new Nimbus 2001 is on sale now at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Dreadford, you make me feel so alive I could die!"

"Und dat's vhy we shuldn't be togezher, Trella," the vampire lead said with an accent as thick as it was fake. "You aura like a Blood-flavored lollipop, und gazing upon you I haff nevar velt so dead inside. But you aura my life now. I dun't zeem to ve strung enouff to stay avay frum you anamoor."

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and silently hoped it was only the possibility for further news which kept Ron's mum glued to the radio like that. How anyone could be so slack-witted as to actually enjoy such drivel was beyond her. It seemed to numb her mind a little more with each passing second and it came as a relief when the woman turned it down somewhat as she made her way over to the window.

"Oh, don't worry about them, dear," the older woman said as she too looked out on the pair sitting on the low stone fence and talked. "They'll be thick as thieves again in no time," she said with a reassuring smile. "Men are all the same; they have to do things wrong half a hundred times before they figure it out."

"Two hundred when it's my dad," Hermione said, glad the woman hadn't taken her sudden appearance today amiss, "but I think he does it on purpose just for laughs."

"He certainly seemed the excitable type when he introduced himself the other day, but I thought it was the muggle in him," Mrs. Weasley said as she bustled her way into the cozy kitchen. "Would you care for some tea, dear?"

"Only if it's not any trouble," she replied a little anxiously, not wanting to push things too far.

Although she had always been more comfortable with adults than with people her own age, suddenly popping out of nowhere and deciding you're going to be friends with your friends' mother was more than a little presumptuous. The older woman though seemed to have a very different view of things.

"It's no trouble at all, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a wave and a moment later Hermione could only marvel at how quickly and effortlessly the practiced wand flicks and waves had two steaming hot cups of black tea prepared, even without ever saying an incantation. "I hardly ever get visitors and we had so little time to get to know each other earlier," the woman said gesturing to the large wooden table with the tea as she returned. "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? It's rather early for it but have you thought on what you'd like to do once you leave Hogwarts?"

The question made her pause for a moment as she took her seat.

"Actually, I'm not quite sure," she said honestly as the woman handed her her tea and sat across from her. "I'd like to do something that'd have a large positive social impact. So much of the time I set aside last year to learn about wizarding society though was taken up by other things, but I get the impression there are several areas which could benefit from such activism. Precisely what form it'd take or how I could go about it I don't rightly know as yet though."

From the slightly wide-eyed expression on Mrs. Weasley's face Hermione didn't think this was the sort of answer the woman had been expecting. In an effort to smooth things over she took a sip of her tea and tried to pretend she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary at all, because for her it wasn't. Harry may have been right after all; perhaps trying to be friends with adults was always going to be awkward.

"Well it certainly seems like a very long career in the Ministry is in your future," the woman said finally. "It looks as though half of mine have their minds set on Quidditch though. What about you, dear, have you taken it up?"

This time it was Hermione's turn for the wider eyes.

"Watching is far more enjoyable than flying," she replied earnestly, "though even that can be nerve-wracking sometimes. Those classes they gave us at school were more than enough for me. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground."

"Well, on that we can certainly ag–," Mrs. Weasley cut off as the wireless blared out a series of quick bugle bursts. "Oh, sorry, dear, it's another news bulletin," she said quickly as she pulled out her wand again and gave it a flick.

"It's pure pandemonium here in Diagon Alley as shoppers scatter and eaves ignite!" the news announcer proclaimed as their tea sat forgotten. "Just moments ago a roar and a blast of what appeared to be dragonfire erupted out of Gringotts Bank, but what prompted this act we don't yet know. I'm going now to try to get a word with one of the Aurors outside," the man reported above the sound of ragged breathing and hurried feet as Mrs. Weasley's face went pale.

"You there!" the man cried, finding his target in the intense background noise of the alley. "Merlin's beard, folks, it's Alastor Moody. What's going on, sir? What can you tell us about what happened here?"

"Nothing's happened and the only thing going on is you getting your butt back inside or down to the Leaky Cauldron so you can make your way home," a harsh gravelly voice even worse than Lichfield's said.

"You have Aurors running around all over the place," the announcer countered, "and that lot in front of the bank look like they're drawn up for war. Is the Ministry attacking the goblins?"

"No one's attacking anyone," the man he called Moody growled. "Now you get your arse back inside before I remove it."

"Well, there you have it, folks!" the announcer said as the din was cut down by the sound of a closing door. "Something bizarre and potentially violent is going on and the Ministry is strangely silent. It's certainly an exciting news day here at the WWN," the man said as if happy not to have had the day off.

"I'm sure the Ministry will have a statement for us shortly and we'll bring it to you just as soon as we get it," the man continued. "If even half the rumors swirling around are true I'm looking forward to hearing about today's Wizengamot as well, so make sure to stay tuned as we'll have updates for you throughout the day! Until then, this is Andy Applebottom, returning you to your regularly scheduled programming."

As a few more bugle blasts sounded from the wireless she and Mrs. Weasley shared the same shocked look before the woman ran off towards the stairs with a shout of "Bill!" Her first reaction though was to go off and find Harry and Mr. Lichfield; surely the older man would know what's going on. Harry's face through the window as they walked back made her stop.

'What did Lichfield say to him?' she wondered as she wrenched open the door and ran outside. Harry looked like someone told him his dog had just died. "Mrs. Weasley needs to see you immediately," she told the older man when she got to them, "Something's going on at the bank."

With a look of curious concern Lichfield walked into the house, leaving them alone.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked only to be immediately wrapped in his arms.

Out of all the hugs they'd had this was the first one he initiated, so it took her a moment to remember she was supposed to be hugging him back. When she did though the worry she'd been trying not to think about disappeared entirely. What did it matter that she'd promised to run from monsters if Harry needed her here? They were only dragons after all.

"Are you alright?" she asked when his arms started to slacken and pulled back a little so she could see him properly.

"I'm fine," he said more softly than usual.

Harry certainly didn't look fine in her opinion though. He was better than he was, sure, but still not fine with whatever it was and that had her conflicted about what she should do to help. Part of her wanted to ask him what it was and really dig into it so he really would be fine once it was done but another part wanted him to be comfortable enough with her so he voluntarily opened up to her.

Being honest with herself though that latter part was throttling the first and it had nothing to do with any logical reason why. It was winning because she was sad Harry didn't already feel that way about her. She tried to tell herself it was ridiculous and they'd only just become a couple but the feeling stubbornly refused to leave, which in turn told her how important she really felt it was.

'He'll get there,' Hermione told herself as she gave him the sympathetic smile she thought he'd need. She then moved so she could lead him back towards the house, still lashed to his side with an arm around his waist. At least she hoped he got there, she amended; otherwise she'd have to hunt down those Dursleys herself.

.o0O0o.

Walking into the Burrow with his girlfriend, Harry had difficulty making sense of what was happening in front of him. The three adults entering the kitchen area were talking over each other more than talking to each other but it didn't seem to stop them from continuing. It was like walking into the midst of a conversation happening completely out of order though so it all made for one big mess.

From what he could pick out, Lichfield was asking Molly about what she heard on the wireless, Molly was asking Bill if what she heard was true, and Bill was trying to confirm it with Lichfield without having to answer his mother while also not getting any answers in return. Meanwhile Harry didn't have a clue what was going on. Eventually Lichfield vowed to get to the bottom of it and stuck his head into emerald floo flames.

And while this may have been a small step towards sanity Fred, George, Ron, and Percy had all picked that moment to come down and ask what all the commotion was about. It fell to Mrs. Weasley to start the tale from the beginning, helped out – or possibly hindered – by Hermione chiming in to correct things and to point out the broadcast really hadn't had much news in it at all besides the fact that something had happened and presumably had something to do with the bank, a dragon, and the Ministry. By the time they finished Lichfield had pried his head out of the floo, though he did look particularly green around the gills.

"What's going on at the bank?" Bill asked.

"Hang onto your broom," a sickly-looking Lichfield replied from his sitting spot on the floor as his hands went to his head. "Let me make sure my head's still on the right way."

The poor man got no rest though for the very next moment the floo flared and Mr. Weasley fell on top of him. Harry would've laughed but it was all too surreal; it was like some giant had picked everything up and turned it upside down, and then shook it several times for good measure. Mrs. Weasley darted over to help her husband as the two men untangled themselves and tried to stand.

"Arthur," Molly said as she dusted him off, "did you hear what happened?"

"The dragon attack on Diagon Alley?" he asked. "Absolutely."

"Is anyone dead?" one of the twins asked.

"With all due respect, Dad," Bill said, ignoring the grisly question. "For all we know it could've been the Ministry attacking them."

"Well, not the way the Ministry behaved," his father countered. "From where I sat it was clear no one knew anything about it until it happened. The Minister called for an immediate vote on some emergency measures and evacuated everyone but the senior staff out of the building. It was lucky no one got trampled."

"Surely the Ministry would be safe," Mrs. Weasley said as she seemed to check to make sure her husband still had all his appendages. "What about the Muggle Protection Act you've been working on, surely that got its vote?"

"Muggle Protection Act?" Hermione asked, begging for clarification that never came.

"Thankfully, no," the man replied with an odd look as he smoothed his hair over his bald patch. "As soon as the Prophet named Dumbledore as some silly romance writer I knew we were in trouble," he said making Harry wonder if he could have anything go right without causing a hundred other things to go wrong. "And once Dingle was barred and Dumbledore forced to resign the whole thing was doomed. I guess I can thank whatever happened in the Alley for saving us from total embarrassment."

"So what did you discover?" Bill asked Lichfield again.

"A fat lot of nothing except what it feels like to swirl your head around a thousand times and run into a bunch of mattresses," the irritated litigator replied. "I knew they were restricting floo access but I assumed they were leaving one open for emergencies. How are they supposed to–?"

A blur of black and a crash! sent shards of broken glass flying from the nearest window as everyone jumped in alarm as whatever it was thudded heavily to the floor and started shrieking. It turned out to be a large black owl with a strangely shaped rock attached to its feet, though why anyone would want to mail a rock was beyond him. Bill certainly had a heck of a time getting it from the excitable bird which seemed to be all flailing wings, talons, and beak.

Once it had drawn enough blood from the beleaguered Bill the owl flew off leaving more than just its oddly-shaped rock behind. Lichfield repaired the window as Arthur put the rock on the table and turned it to get a better look while Molly looked to her son's hand. The curse-breaker seemed to think a stylized seashell on a thin leather strap was more important though. Suddenly the new angle shifted how the odd rock appeared to him and Harry knew exactly what it was.

"Why would anyone send us a stone goblin head?" he asked curiously.

"I think the stranger question would be why is an owl traveling by portkey in the first place?" Bill added.

"How else are we supposed to talk to you people without going there ourselves?" Barchoke's voice said emanating the stone goblin's mouth-like slit. "We certainly weren't going to wait hours for the owl to get there on its own and we had a frumpy Frenchman on hand to whip this up. Now where's Lichfield? I don't know how much time we have."

"Right here," the old bailiff replied. "You knew where I was going to be, you didn't have to scare the bloody bird half to death trying to find me. Why didn't you just use the floo?"

"That's what I asked," the stone head wheezed in a different voice before providing an answer in yet another one.

"The Floo Network is not a part of Gringotts Bank," the third voice informed them. "Since it is maintained and controlled by the Ministry of Magic, we must consider it suspect since it could be monitored or removed without our knowledge."

"A very sensible precaution, Overseers," Lichfield said, giving everyone shushing gesture to keep them quiet as many of them took seats at the table. "We heard there was a disruption at the bank. Is everyone alright?"

"No thanks to the Ministry it seems," Barchoke groused. "An auror tried to attack the teller we had stationed outside and it was only because he ran and the man tripped that he wasn't successful. Bankor's indisposed so we need you to come in so we can formulate some kind of response."

"And the dragon wasn't response enough?" the bailiff asked.

"The dragon was a strictly defensive measure," the third goblin voice informed them.

"How is a dragon defensive?" Mr. Weasley asked astonishedly.

"Well, if you were going to be attacked in your home wouldn't you want a dragon by the door?" Barchoke asked. "That auror blew it open so the least they deserved was a warning not to go any further. A lot of us have had our fill with the Ministry today though; that Umbridge woman threatened to kill Overseer Gutripper and tried to steal our island out from under us."

"What island is this?" Arthur asked a moment before Lichfield said, "I'm sure the Ministry will appreciate you're trying to maintain the peace," which got him odd looks from several people there.

"If the aurors have you surrounded it might be difficult getting in," the old man continued, "but I think I can do it. I'm supposed to be meeting with Skeeter to fill her in on our side of the whole Stone incident though and she's not someone you want to cross unless you fancy the whole country turning against you based on what she writes."

"Hang on a minute," the wheezy goblin voice said before the stone head went silent.

"That's got to be the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Ron said uncomfortably while poking at the head.

"Why?" Hermione asked, "It's essentially a magical telephone."

"Whatever it is, can't they make the lips move at least?"

"Are you talking about those things that go 'ring' and talks to people?" Mr. Weasley asked her jovially. "I always thought you should yell with those, just to be sure they hear you."

"Please don't," Barchoke's voice said, "You're loud enough as you are. Is Lichfield still there?"

"Nope, I wandered off," the old man winked to Harry with a grin and getting a chuckle from the other guys.

"Funny," Barchoke said humorlessly. "When you get back tell yourself to bring Skeeter in with you. Slaggran thinks we can give her a much bigger story tied into yours that she can't get anywhere else – filled with dragons, explosions, and death. What more could she ask for?"

"And make sure she brings a camera," the wheezy voice added, making Harry wonder what the heck they've been getting up to.

"Oh–oh–oh! And is the Weasley there?" the head said with a new voice Harry remembered hearing once before.

"Which one?" Lichfield asked scanning the room. "There's like seven of them here."

"Is the really?" the voice asked happily. "Oh! We should be collecting them!"

"Maybe later," Barchoke's voice told this new one. "Which one do you want now?"

"I think he means me, sir," Bill answered for him, though none of those last few statements made Mrs. Weasley look happy at all.

"Oh yes, that's the Bill," the odd voice said, "He could be being useful. Can you be moving an island?"

"I – doubt it, sir," the curse-breaker said dubiously.

"Oh," the voice said dispiritedly. "It be no worry," it immediately recovered, "We be finding something."

"Oh, I see where – Yes, bring him too," Barchoke agreed. "I think we've got a workable plan forming here; I'll tell you when you get here and we know what the heck we're doing. Oh, and don't forget to bring the head," the goblin added. "We need to reattach it. I'll see you soon."

The stone head fell silent once again.

"Are they gone?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Better safe than sorry," Lichfield said as he picked up the goblin head, walked to the door, and set it outside. "You might want to get anything you want to bring with you," he said to Bill once the door was closed.

"You're not really going to help those goblins, are you?" Mrs. Weasley asked her son when he stood to go upstairs.

"What do you think my job is, Mum?" Bill replied with a grin.

"But they're at odds with the Ministry," she pointed out.

"Half the time they're at odds with the Egyptian one too but it doesn't stop me from going to work," he replied to his mother's shocked face. "A government's a government, but a job's a job," Bill said, leaving no doubt which he valued more. "Besides, this is what a promotion looks like. If things go well I might be able to renegotiate my contract," he smiled.

"You'll want legal help for that," Lichfield said smoothly.

"You offering?" Bill asked.

"My fee's workable," the old man shrugged.

.o0O0o.

Cornelius thought he had everything wrong set to be deflected away from the Ministry and onto Dumbledore but as the hours passed everything had gone bad and then went worse. Failure with Flamel, disaster in Diagon Alley, panicking people everywhere, and now some puffed-up Parisian was on his way to his office. He had to get something sorted out before he got here. At least Scrimgeour had held his ground at Hogwarts and sent those busybodies from the I.C.W. packing.

That, Lucius's plan to back Dumbledore into resigning whether he wanted to or not, and getting those emergency banking measures passed had been the only things which had gone right today so he didn't know whether it all amounted to a wash yet or not. Hope wasn't lost yet though, if he could spin one of these problems around he just might end up ahead in this.

'It's too bad Lucius isn't here,' the Minister thought as he looked to the relevant department heads. 'I could use his advice on this besides "admit nothing and keep everyone calm."' Cornelius knew he should have told the man to stay but it's hard to say no to anything when you were in their debt. 'Him and his "other concerns,"' he scoffed. 'If they have anything to do with Gringotts then he's welcome to them. I'm not going anywhere with a dragon in its lobby.'

"No, no, I absolutely agree with you, Amelia," he said to the stern-faced woman. She had taken a very hard line when it came to Diagon Alley and she wasn't about to let one of her officers be thrown to the mob just to smooth things over. "Dolores had no right to order an attack and it was good of your men to stop it."

"But Minister, we must attack them!" the pink and panicking pint-sized empress in question cried from the armchair she'd taken on the other side of his desk. "They are dangerous and defiant. They must be punished."

"That doesn't give you the authority to order them all killed!" Cornelius said banging his fist down on the desk in a most satisfying way. It hurt his hand but he liked the feeling of power it gave. "You bungled this from the very beginning. One more failure like this and I'm of half a mind to exile you to Zanzibar or see you out of the Ministry entirely. You were sent to present our claim to the island, not to start a war. We're supposed to be fighting for British sovereignty against the I.C.W., not mired in an internal conflict with the Goblin Nation."

"But calling them that–"

"–Let's us get away with not giving them anything they want," he said with a scowl, overriding her protests. "Better for them to be an insignificant people within Britain who handles their own affairs than have them run off to form their own country like the Irish. I will not be known as a Minister of Magic who loses even one inch of British soil and the last thing we need is to unite the goblins and I.C.W. against us or we'll find ourselves under goblin rule. What are we doing to prevent that?" Cornelius asked, turning to Mockridge.

"Our best way forward is to treat them all as isolated incidents and defend them all separately," the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office replied. "Umbridge was sent to inform them of island's status; they were responsible for turning things in any way violent. Likewise, Diagon Alley had nothing to do with the Ministry," the man went on to say. "It was a trainee who believed he was acting under orders, but no such orders were authorized by our government. For all we know he may have been Confunded."

"You think they'll believe that?" the Minister asked.

"No," the other man replied, "but our people might and it'll buy us time to sway the I.C.W. to our side as new facts drip out."

"That's completely unethical," Madam Bones said disapprovingly. "We can't lie to the public. The boy was misguided but he was acting under orders. He can't be at fault if those orders weren't authorized; he couldn't have known that. Dolores is the one to blame."

"Wha–what?!" the other woman said, practically croaking the words as her eyes bulged.

"–She was clearly out of her depth in handling these matters and she let her personal animus against the goblins override her professional obligation to maintain peaceful ties between peoples," Amelia went on to say. "However, if what Dolores said about those dragons is true, a case could be made that she was so scared out of her wits she didn't know what she was saying once she portkeyed to safety."

"That's preposterous!" Dolores declared, not seeing the partial way out the woman offered her.

"And she still doesn't know what she's saying," Mockridge agreed.

Cornelius didn't like that narrative at all. It meant the whole thing was still his fault for sending Dolores there in the first place and he doubted very much anyone would appreciate if he said he was only doing what Lucius said he should, least of all Lucius.

"It may end with her having to resign," the other wizard continued. "But better that than what the goblins are demanding, and we still have five people's lives hanging in the balance."

"Wait – what do you mean?" Cornelius asked.

Amelia was one step ahead of him though. "You left your escort behind?!" the woman thundered at Umbridge. "Those Hit Wizards have families to think of!"

"Dragonfire, phony gold, aurors run amok, and now this," the Minister pleaded. "This is too much. Please tell me those men aren't dead."

"They're not dead," Mockridge said, allowing him to breathe easier for the moment. "The goblins say they've taken them into custody for trying to steal 'the Isle of Gringotts' – what they're calling the island Flamel was on. They're also refusing to discuss anything else until 'the other three criminals' are brought to them."

"That island belongs to the Ministry," Dolores maintained. "We can't steal what already belongs to us."

"What three criminals are they talking about?" Cornelius asked. "Dumbledore? The Flamels?"

"No, the Flamels they have, or so they claim, and they consider Dumbledore an I.C.W. concern," Mockridge said with a look. "Who they want is Umbridge, that trainee, and whoever ordered the attack. They don't know the first and last are one and the same though. If they did they might agree to accept her in trade and let everyone else go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dolores said, her panicked spittle flying. "I've done nothing wrong!"

"This is a much harder line than anything we've heard from the goblins before," Amelia said, dismissing Umbridge's outburst.

"We've heard rumors of a new Grand Overseer–," Mockridge said.

"Barfchoke," Umbridge sneered, saying a name very similar to the one who'd met with him the day before.

"–and with all the commotion, this goblin seems to be in a much better position than any of his predecessors," he continued. "I've looked at what he gave Dolores and those seals check out. Crouch is investigating exactly what it'll mean for us if it holds up but I don't know how they got Ministry's seal at all. No one with the authority to do so would've agreed to what it says but there was an hour or so where there was no one in the Office when the person we had working there quit, so it might've been possible someone sneaked in to do it."

"You think a goblin sneaked past our security?" Cornelius asked amazed, though Amelia looked doubtful.

"I told you, we should attack them!" Umbridge interrupted.

The Minister pummeled his desk again, hard.

"Dolores! That is enough out of you!" he tried to cry roughly though the searing pain in his hand made it come out as a bit of a croak. Perhaps he was getting a little carried away with all this hitting. "Leave! Now! And think about what you've done."

The pudgy woman had been his stalwart ally but with her eyes bulging and mouth gaping all she looked like now was a squashed frog. Lucius had been right about her, her dedication was to be lauded but her stupidity meant she couldn't be trusted except for the most basic of tasks – but now he knew she couldn't even be trusted with that! She'd be the end of them all if given half a chance.

"Go!" he said again, waving his hurting hand dismissively in an attempt to make it feel better.

Dolores looked around and saw no sympathetic faces here. With nothing else to do after such a frank dismissal she retreated as fast as she could. Cornelius wondered if what she's done wrong has even started to dawn on her. No one put him at risk of looking stupid and left without feeling stupid themselves.

When the door clicked shut he asked Mockridge again, "You think a goblin sneaked past our security?"

"It's possible, but not likely," Mockridge pointed out as if the disturbance had never happened at all. "We need some time to figure out what happened and digest what it means. Hopefully we can get it tossed out or Crouch will be an even bigger pain in the arse than he already is."

"You don't think he'd really support…," the Minister said before trailing off when he knew the man was right. The Wizengamot could pass a law mandating all witches and wizards paint themselves blue, get married, and immediately start producing children and the prig would propose to the first woman he saw while dousing himself with paint. Even if everyone else refused to acknowledge the law existed and protested through the streets until it was repealed the man would still follow it, so why wouldn't he support an agreement everyone hated?

"The good thing is that we should be able to sit on most of this until at least Monday," Mockridge said as he smoothed his robes. "There's already been enough excitement today to fill half a dozen Prophets, and the Prophet doesn't know anything about Flamel or what happened on the island. I say we put out the statement on Diagon Alley and leave it at that for now."

"Yes, yes. A careful approach would be best," Cornelius agreed, thinking the man's strategy was closest to what Lucius advised. "That'll give us several days to look into things and work these goblins and international types around to our way of thinking before we have to go public with anything. Tell Crouch we're going off the assumption the seal was illegally obtained, that should get him in the proper state of mind until then."

"And the hit wizards the goblins captured?" Amelia asked, her face a thunderhead. "What are we supposed to tell their families when they don't come home tonight?"

"That– umm," the Minister stammered.

"–They're on assignment," Mockridge offered.

"–Yes, they're on assignment," Cornelius repeated, hoping everyone took it to be his idea all along.

"I detest all this lying to the public," the hard-nosed woman said in response. "But given the current climate, I can see the need to allow things to calm down for a while. You will push for my men to be released," she said to Mockridge in a no-nonsense tone, "and I don't care if you have to truss Dolores up and drag her to them in order to do it."

"Of course," Mockridge said with a smile that showed too many teeth. "The safety of your men is my primary concern."

As much as Cornelius liked the other man, Cuthbert really was only a slightly above average liar when it came to his equals. It didn't stop Amelia from accepting it though, or at least pretending she did since it wouldn't change anything. He didn't particularly care as long as she didn't cause problems. He hated problems, mostly because people kept expecting him to fix them.

"Withdrawing the aurors from the Alley will show the goblins it was an accident," Amelia went on to say. "Scrimgeour could use them to rotate the protection of Hogwarts more regularly, that's if you're still set on allowing Dumbledore to return there?" she asked incredulously.

"Once I show this Frenchman what's what and you make sure Dumbledore won't run off, yes," the Ministerly Minister said in all his Ministerliness. "It'll show the I.C.W. we're not to be trifled with."

"Keeping some of the aurors there would soothe the wizarding public and serve to put pressure on the goblins," Mockridge countered. "Given time I could persuade them to lower, if not drop their demands entirely, in return for removing them. And, once we talk the I.C.W. around to our way of thinking, that agreement of theirs will be torn up and any pretense they had of holding those hit wizards will vanish."

"I like that idea," Cornelius said as everything seemed to come together at last.

"And how are we supposed to keep those aurors out there, and around Hogwarts, full time?" Amelia asked.

"I don't care. How am I supposed to know?" the Minister said with a dismissive wave. "Stick people from Magical Maintenance in those robes for all I care, it's not like anyone can tell the difference. Just see to it, Amelia, we've got a great deal of work to do," he said tersely.

The Head of the D.M.L.E. stood and looked down at him. "Some of us do, at least," she said before turning and walking out.

"I swear, half the time I think that woman's after my job," Cornelius said once the door was closed.

"I doubt she would take it," Mockridge said consolingly. "Even if the Wizengamot were foolish enough to offer it to her, the Minister of Magic doesn't have the luxury of her pious principles. Sooner or later she'll have to learn a little bit of lying is always for the best."

He certainly nodded his agreement only to be cut off when there was a knock on the door.

"Quick!" he motioned for Mockridge to leave as he stood and walked towards the door. "You go take care of all that. I've got a Frenchman to dance around with."

The two men got there just in time for his secretary to open the door and announce the visitor.

"Mon–sewer Jon Olive–veer–" the worthless woman said before the Frenchmen did it himself.

"Jean-Olivier Delacour, Inspecteur Général Adjoint de la Confédération Internationale des Sorciers," the pudgy man said as he swept the cloak off his shoulders and casually tossed it to Mockridge as if he were some sort of servant.

Cornelius had to instantly reevaluate the man. The man may be portly, but so was he. His robes were well-worn for this time of the day, but today was a day like no other. And clearly this man was one of bearing and breeding that'd rival Lucius himself, though he'd never tell him that. Desperately he tried to conjure up anything that might sway the man an inch.

"Why 'ave I been made to wait?" the Frenchman asked haughtily as if looking at scum that had gotten on the bottom of his shoes. "And what ees ze meaning of keeping Dumblydore away from us? Ze man at 'Ogwarts was very rude. Ees zis 'ow you treat foreign dignitaries een Eengland?"

Once again Cornelius waved Mockridge away and fastened on a smile as the door closed.

"Visits from foreign dignitaries are usually arranged well ahead of time," he said as politely as he could as he gestured to one of the plush seats. "And typically they aren't conspiring with goblin-run banks to take us unawares or move with an army at their backs."

He knew at once the man was sufficiently politically minded to realize just how badly saying it that way made it seem. Indeed, he'd think less of the man for not seeing the quagmire before he'd stepped in it if it hadn't taken Lucius to show it to him in the first place. On second thought though the man was French and didn't deserve such consideration.

"We were speeking to zose who were speeking to us," the man said delicately as he took his seat. "Eet was not for us to eenform you, we zought you knew. Our only conzern was apprehending ze creeminals and ze security of gold, so of course we go to banks."

"Be that as it may," Cornelius said as he walked back to sit at his desk. "The Wizengamot was furious; some of them wanted to attack without delay. You've heard what happened in Diagon Alley?"

"I may 'ave 'eard something...," the Frenchman said noncommittally.

"Dragonfire scorching buildings, people thrown to safety, panic, lost tax revenue everywhere," he said dramatically, barely having to exaggerate at all. "It was madness, and you had a hand in it by putting everyone on edge. How am I supposed to run a country this way?"

"Let's not talk about ze past," Whatever-his-name-was said quickly with a diminutive wave. "Eet ees ze future zat concerns us. Where ees Dumblydore? 'E ees to stand trial wizout delay."

"Oh, believe me, Mr. Dell...?"

"Delacour."

"–Mr. Delacour," Cornelius repeated in what he hoped would pass for openness and honesty. "Nothing would please me more than to have this whole mess off my shoulders, but it seems as though we've found ourselves in a bit of a pickle."

"What do you mean?" the man asked. "'Ow could anyzing be more eemportant zan zis?"

"Tell me," the Minister said with a comforting smile, "Do you have children?"

The man's face became as unyielding as granite so quickly Cornelius could've sworn someone had transfigured it.

"What do you mean by zat?" the Frenchman asked in a much less friendly tone.

Quickly he scrambled to change what he was going to say. The last thing he wanted was this man to think he was threatening to make his children orphans.

"I only mean that taking him now could have serious detrimental effects on a young boy many regard as a beloved national hero," Cornelius said smoothly, his voice full of false concern. Mr. Dela–Frenchman seemed to have trouble connecting the two things together though so he simply had to spell it out. "What do you know about Harry Potter?"

.o0O0o.

Hours passed and things still weren't sitting right with her.

'How had the day turned out like this?' she wondered.

It had started out like any other, with her restless and concerned about a child under her roof, only for things to go all widdershins when her eldest Confunded her with how little she knew about her own little girl. And if that wasn't enough, the financial fragility the family managed to negotiate threatened to come crashing down while things with Harry had gone from bad to worse! Hermione and Luna – and even Ginny herself – had really saved the day in that regard.

That Hermione girl had sorted things out with Harry and the boys in no time at all, though if they really spent time doing their homework then Molly would take the place of the family ghoul. Bill might be right about Luna though; she may be just the spell she needed to turn her daughter around – not that Ginny looked like she needed any turning at the moment. Luna was the thing needed to keep her going straight. Was there a saying for that? The handle for Ginny's broom? That seemed to work.

No! She had one that's better. The life she had unknowingly made for Ginny was like the Burrow, only surrounded by high stone walls she couldn't climb and where Harry loomed larger than a giant. Luna, then, was like a small… hole she could… crawl through? No, maybe she was more like a creeper she could climb. Oh! Luna was like the conductor of the great Hogwarts Express and would take her daughter off on a grand adventure in the land of WhereHarry'sNot.

'I really need to get better at this,' she decided. 'Maybe Luna's just a broom after all.'

Molly knew she was dithering of course but dithering in private was always easier than facing the uncomfortable truth, and with Dobby around to take care of everything it wasn't like she had anything else to do anymore. The boys were fine, Harry was alright again, Ginny was on her way… somewhere, and Arthur had calmed her down about all the phony gold nonsense. But none of it seemed to make up for the fact that her beautiful baby boy was a criminal!

How could he help those goblins do whatever they wanted? His father worked for the Ministry! She knew she should have pushed him harder to go that way but working for the bank had seemed so respectable at the time. But even if what he was doing wasn't illegal it certainly wasn't right. Charlie would never help those goblins, that's for sure, and that's because he was a good boy who loved his mother. And even if he didn't seem to like her from time to time she'd still raised him right.

What Bill needed was a good solid young woman to get his head out of the clouds, and nothing would right his thinking faster than a child of his own. As much as she wanted to take her children and shake some sense into them though she was not going to become her mother. She wasn't! The old shrew's tactics of isolation, and punishment, and threatening you with potions and contracts wasn't even on the table; they were completely unthinkable.

Besides, it hadn't worked on her brothers and it hadn't worked on her. If anything it had made them all more eager to get out from under her roof as soon as they could, and had made her brothers glad to help her skip off and elope with Arthur after their fifth year. How her brothers managed to get their father's signatures on the form allowing her to wed though she never knew, but she was eternally grateful for it.

She'd always thought she'd drawn the appropriate line when it came to childcare though: a good talking-to and maybe some temporary grounding, but what she hadn't foreseen was how close even doing that sometimes got to what she'd gone through, especially when it was to a girl who had no friends of her own. So maybe she was still doing some things wrong but she only wanted more for her children than what she'd had, it's why she's fought so hard to keep them in school. Merlin knows it's been dreadfully hard for Arthur to make enough to make ends meet with only his O.W.L.s but they were making do.

But they really weren't making do, not really. They'd only been making do for so long because of Harry and what Albus had done, but with that finished how were they to continue on at all? Percy's education was still paid for, thanks to the Hopefuls – unless they took it away from him that is – but assuming it was, it still left them with four tuitions to pay for next year when scrimping and saving every knut they could find had only ever been able to pay for three at a time.

Ginny deserved just as much of an education as any of her brothers but if they had to choose, how could you pick which to send and which to keep at home? Percy was a Prefect with a shot at being Head Boy, and next year would be his seventh year, so if they had to pay for his schooling as well as all the others it'd be an incredibly tough thing to do to deny him the opportunity. Likewise, it was going to be Fred and George's fifth year too, but while neither of them were Prefect material they had their O.W.L.s to think of and she and Arthur had been out of school so long she doubted their ability to teach them what they'd need to know.

On the face of it, those would be the most sensible ones to send if it came down to it, but if Percy still had his Hopefuls tuition then who would they send: Ron or Ginny? Ron would be in his third year then and picking up the extra classes, but even if they had the books he'd need he's never been one to read or study on his own; he might need the school environment to force him to learn it at all. Ginny would be the easiest one to teach at home since it'd only be her second year but it wasn't fair for the girl should miss out on what all of her brothers have had. And if she did want to make a go at Quidditch then how was she ever going to get on a team if she never got on a team?

'Plus it'd mean taking her away from all the friends she'd make this year and we've already seen what that does to her,' Molly reminded herself. 'We can't let that happen; there has to be some other way. Maybe Harry can just live here forever,' she thought only to discard the idea. 'That would be using him just as much as Dumbledore did, and we're better people than that.'

But then she thought of something; maybe they could split it. Ron could go for half the year and Ginny could have the rest. Did Hogwarts do anything like that? She didn't think so, but it was just the type of idea Dumbledore mi– Molly stopped herself and sighed. Any idea Dumbledore would like was sure to be avoided since the man himself was bound to be bundled off to prison soon, and wouldn't even be around next year to make this exception for them, even if he wanted to after she'd thrown him out of the house.

Things got even murkier after that. If they paid for Fred and George to go through O.W.L.s then how could they say that they couldn't go through N.E.W.T.s as well? It was only another two years of miserable hardship for Ron and Ginny, and one of those was Ron's O.W.L. year too. She really didn't want to think this but... after Percy... would it be O.W.L.s and done? Would her four youngest have to face the same hardships she and Arthur had to when they were just starting out? She didn't want that for them.

Molly heard the house door open and hurried out of the area behind the kitchen where she did the laundry to try and make herself look busy with dinner. When she arrived though she found there was not one, but two house-elves already there working. Had it really gotten so late and she hadn't noticed? And was Dobby breeding or something? How many of them would they have by the time the kids went back to school?

"But how does the shape keep the aeroplane up if the wings don't flap?" Arthur asked as he entered with Harry and Hermione.

"It's a force called Lift," the girl explained in mugglese. "The wing generates it by aeroplane propelling itself forward fast enough to move air over the curve of the wing so that it counteracts the pull of gravity."

"So if you were to make a spell stopping this lift thing," he said while puzzling that line of muggleness a moment, "what would happen to the aeroplane then?"

"It'd fall and kill hundreds of people!" Hermione said aghast.

"Arthur, leave them alone and let them have some time to themselves," she chided him in the hopes of stopping the man from making sure the girl never wanted to come here again. "You've been hounding them all day about those muggle things; surely you're done by now."

"I had no idea there was so much to learn," her bewildered-eyed husband said.

"Yes, well, go on up and tell the boys to get ready for dinner," Molly told him with a look as she shooed him away from the pair. "Hermione, dear, will you be staying for dinner?" she asked in an attempt to smooth things over, though Merlin knew how many times Arthur would put his foot in his mouth if she stayed.

"Thank you, but no," the girl said as she regained her composure. "My dad wanted me home by then," she said as she checked one of those odd muggle watches they put on their wrists and an perturbed look crossed her face. "In fact, I should be going soon."

"That's too bad, dear," Molly said consolingly. "But don't be afraid to pop by anytime," she smiled.

"Thanks."

As the girl went to collect her things Molly tried to get Harry's attention and motioned for him to do what he should.

"Er– I'll – walk you out," he said eventually before going over to help her collect her things.

There was an awkward moment where he didn't know whether he should carry the book bag or simply hand it to her, but they quickly sorted it out. Molly had to run interference on with the dark-haired elf who'd come with the girl though.

"Wait just a moment, dear," she told it quietly with a hand on its shoulder as it moved towards the girl.

She coaxed it back in time for them to turn away and look in a random cabinet in order to blend into the background while the couple walked back through the kitchen area to go outside. She patted it on the back for a job well done, though she doubted whether the confused elf even knew what was going on.

"I'll tell you when, dear, or Hermione will call," Molly told it as she covertly peeked through the window.

She couldn't tell what they were saying but their actions spoke louder than words to her. Harry was standing nervously with his arms bunched up against his sides and his hands in his pockets while she stood equally nervously, though rather close to him. And while his would occasionally dart up to flatten his hair after he said something, hers couldn't seem to stop fidgeting with that book bag or her hair.

Molly remembered the same nervousness from back when she and Arthur were first getting together. They'd known each other a bit beforehand, sure, but it was different when you were together; it was like having to learn to walk and talk all over again. It said plain as day that these two cared for each other but were far too frightened to really show it yet, which was precisely what it should be at their age.

Part of her wanted to show this to her daughter and say, 'This is what you should be looking for, not some sugary nonsense from a storybook written by a man who's never kissed a girl in his life. It's a genuine expression of two people who truly care for each other.' Ginny would never see it that way though; she would probably stomp and cry and shriek at the top of her lungs like one of those Quidditch girls she fancied herself being and end up ruining the whole thing for them, only find some way to blame them for it.

Doing so would be much too harsh on Ginny though and wouldn't teach her anything if she wasn't willing to learn. It'd be just as wrong-headed as wanting to beat all those silly notions out of her head. The part of her that knew that thought about consoling her daughter over Harry well and truly being taken but who knows what that'd do, sink her down into despair just before she leaves home for Hogwarts? That wouldn't be doing her any favors either.

She'd handled her daughter so poorly until now that all those options were probably the wrong things to do entirely. It'd be hard to see the boy she's attached herself to go off to be with someone else, it always was, but if the last day had taught her anything it was that kids needed to find their own way after a certain point. Perhaps this was Ginny's time; she certainly couldn't do any worse for herself than she had.

'Yes,' Molly thought coming to a decision. 'Ginny was her own woman now, and she had Luna to talk to and was sure to find other friends besides. Perhaps getting through it on her own wouldn't be so bad after all; she might even be a stronger girl for it.' She certainly hoped so.

Movement brought her attention back to the young couple outside where they were sharing a nice intimate hug, though not so much she thought it best to interrupt them. She couldn't see it without a bit of regret though, maybe if she had reacted this way when Charlie had brought that Shawna girl home things would've gone better for him. It was difficult to see her in the Alley now with the man who was presumably her husband and the bulging belly that could've had a Weasley in it instead. She'd always thought Charlie'd be the one who got married first but now she worried he'd never marry at all.

The two kids in the garden pulled away from each other all smiles and Hermione looked down to her right and said something. Instantly there was a small pop! in the kitchen as the little dark-haired elf appeared next to the girl outside and Molly could hear her herd starting to tromp its way downstairs as the girl herself disappeared. Harry stood there for a moment before he came back inside as she busied herself by starting to move some of the dishes the elves had prepared over to the table.

Harry closed the door just as the boys hit the living room, though it was to her he spoke.

"Thanks," he said with a little chagrined grin, his hand going up to flatten his hair again.

"You're welcome, dear," Molly smiled as she gave his shoulder a pat and let him get to his seat. He was a bright boy but if he knew even half the things she'd done for him today she'd eat that broom of his. Men never saw what was right in front of them.

.o0O0o.

The rest of the day was one big droopy mess, and that took a lot of work to do at the Lovegoods' place because it had always been somewhere that'd been happy. That was before though, before Luna's mum had died and before 'that girl' had took her Harry. Now everything was different.

One of the garden gnomes did follow them from the Burrow though and it'd been fun to watch him run around and fight with the plimpies, but it would've been better if 'that girl' wasn't anywhere near the Burrow. Not anywhere near the country – not anywhere near the planet would've been better. She'd settle for the Burrow though. And Hogwarts; she shouldn't be at Hogwarts either.

The whole thing made playing in the stream and putting things in Luna's dad's press to watch them get smashed not as much fun as they should've been. It also made you notice the chair Luna's mum sat in at the table was empty, the dinner conversation seemed more strange than neat, the gurdyroot infusion didn't taste the same, and the soup was strangely sweet and had little legs in it that kept twitching when you ate it. It made for a very jumbly tummy.

Another thing she'd noticed as the day got darker and it got to be time for bed was that girl had made her leave home in such a rush she didn't have her pajamas, a change of clothes for tomorrow, or even her toothbrush. Luna had given her an extra pair of pajamas to wear and had even said she could use her toothbrush. That had seemed too weird though so she just used her finger to spread the toothpaste around; it didn't work too well, and seemed to make you taste it more, but it was better than nothing.

When she came out of the bathroom Luna was sitting curled up in the big comfy chair where her mother had used to read to them; she was reading to herself now though. Cleaned, washed, minty, and ready for bed, she still felt no better since she just remembered another thing she'd left behind. She'd forgotten Tom at the Burrow too! Today just kept getting worse.

"Are you ready?" the other girl asked as she put her bookmark in place and Ginny just nodded.

Luna folded back the bed sheets and hopped up on the bed to spread the curtains to let in the night sky. She didn't know if it was just because of her name but Luna had always loved the sky, whether it was day or night she didn't care and sometimes she'd just stare off into the distance at it. She wasn't interested in flying though, which was strange to her since she loved flying and didn't give two shakes about the sky itself.

Luna even had the daytime sky painted on her bedroom ceiling so she could look at it whenever she wanted. She'd said she'd do something with it one day though, she just wasn't sure what. There was a full moon rising outside so it looked as though tonight was going to be special.

'Maybe that girl will get bit by a werewolf,' Ginny thought to herself as Luna turned out the lights and they got into bed. 'Harry wouldn't want her if she turned into a hairy, snarling beast every month. Or would he?' she wondered.

Ginny looked up at the darkened daytime sky on the ceiling and couldn't help but think. It would be like Harry to stick by that girl if something bad happened to her, even if it was being turned into a werewolf. Merlin, he'd probably run out and get bit himself just to be with her, or marry her as fast as he could just to show it didn't matter to him. That's not what the future for the Boy Who Lived was supposed to be like; he wasn't supposed to have a pack of Potter puppies, he was supposed to be with her.

'Stop thinking and go to sleep,' she told herself. Closing her eyes and trying not to think didn't seem to help at all though so she went back to staring at the ceiling.

Ginny knew it was supposed to happen; she knew they were supposed to be together. She was special, everything said she was. She had red hair, she liked to fly, she was great at Quidditch, she was the seventh child, and the only one that was a girl. The number seven was magic, it was important, it was special, so her being the seventh had to mean something special too. She was important, she was special, she was magical in a way that girl couldn't possibly be because she wasn't a seventh.

That didn't seem to matter to Harry though. Harry was stupid. And worse, he was nothing like the Boy Who Lived so why should she have to wait for him to change into it? What Harry knew of magic probably wouldn't fill up half a page, let alone a whole book. Tom filled a book. Tom filled a book so well he became a book. He filled a book so well he became a book which then wrote itself, so take that, Harry!

'Tonight's going to be a long night,' she thought grumpily as she turned on her side.

When she opened her eyes again Luna was staring back at her with a thoughtful look on her face. The moonlight seemed to reflect off her silvery blue-grey eyes so they seemed to shine, just like her hair. She was about to ask what was going on but the other girl suddenly leaned in and kissed her on the lips! Luna was... What? It was over as fast as it had happened but still she couldn't think. Why had she done that? The two of them hadn't practiced kissing in ages, and certainly never in a bed! Why would Luna kiss her now?

"What was that for?" she whispered wide-eyed.

"You seemed down," Luna said dreamily, "and I didn't want you to become infested by wrackspurts. Since you've been around Harry a lot lately they could be a problem. Kissing's always helped before."

"Oh," Ginny said swallowing the apple that seemed to have gotten lodged in her throat as her heart started pounding a little less loudly with each passing second. "Right. Thanks," she said realizing just how unused to Luna she'd gotten since her mum had stopped them being friends.

"You're welcome," the other girl smiled before lying on her back to go to sleep.

Ginny wondered how anyone could sleep that way as she curled up a bit and put an arm under the pillow to support her head.

"You shouldn't dwell on enemies, you know," Luna said with her eyes closed. "You should think about friends."

Now that the shock was over, she actually did feel a bit better. The day hadn't been that bad really, not when she really thought about it, which is what Luna probably meant in the first place. She'd just been surprised, that's all. That girl wasn't supposed to show up today so when she did everything she'd wanted to do just got tossed out the window in a hissy fit and she'd gone storming off.

'Little girl Ginny strikes again,' she thought. 'She had to ruin everything for Ginevra.'

Luna was right though, she decided a little bit later as she raised the covers over her shoulder and settled down to sleep, it was good to have friends again. The days of little girl Ginny was done. She was sporty-girl Ginevra now and she wasn't going back.

.o0O0o.

With eyelids like lead weights Auror Trainee 'I-Have-No-First-Name' Tonks stood her post and tried to stop herself from nodding off. Since they were on 'a heightened state of alert,' and would be for the foreseeable future, the high muckety-mucks had started to rotate people out so they could get some sleep and set up regular guard shifts both here and elsewhere. That had been around noon and since fully trained aurors were needed around the clock they were the first to be pulled and the first to be replaced; it was now after dark and it looked to be threatening rain.

They changed positions every hour or so to keep alert but that hadn't helped much with her. She'd been standing around all day and so far had been stationed almost everywhere around the perimeter of the school grounds but a fat lot of good she'd be against it if a bloody dragon showed up, if the wilder rumors from elsewhere were true. She'd already forgotten how many hours it's been since anything even remotely interesting's happened. Luckily, or perhaps not so luckily as far as falling asleep was concerned, she at least had the flying pig-topped pillars of the Hogwart's gates to lean back on while she waited for her relief.

The full moon, when it bothered to peek out from behind the clouds, bathed everything in its muted light. She'd never been one to believe the rumors of packs of werewolves roaming around the forest back when she'd been a student but on nights like these it was hard to put those thoughts out of your mind completely. It wasn't the light of the moon which concerned her though, it was the brief swirl of blue light about ten yards away that had her drawing her wand as she fought another yawn.

'Merlin, I need to be in bed. I'm dead on my feet,' she thought as the newcomers were exposed to be none other than Professor Dumbledore and a replacement squad headed by Kingsley Shacklebolt. 'I should tell him to either send me home or transfigure me a bed to sleep in.'

Once they got closer though Tonks was jolted awake by what she saw. The fact the professor was there wasn't strange, given where they were, but what was strange were his hands bound in front of him like some common criminal. It was like some kind of prank. Had the entire world taken leave of their senses? The men themselves seemed to be of two minds about it though.

"Again, I'm sorry about this, professor, but what they're saying–," the deep-voiced auror tried to explain in a tone midway between his calmly commanding baritone and a kind of abashed humility.

"Whatever the reason is that's caused all of this, I'm sure everyone involved is only acting for the greater good," the headmaster told the man consolingly as Tonks tried to puzzle out what she's missing. "The truth of things is sure to come out in time."

Shacklebolt smiled at the man as they reached the gates and she had to go back to scanning the area and pretending she wasn't listening.

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding," he said as produced his wand and tapped it to release the headmaster from his restraints. "I'm glad you're taking this in stride."

"Misunderstandings happen," the kindly old grandfather of a man said as he rubbed his newly freed wrists. "I presume a detailed list of charges shall be made available to me soon?"

That question made Tonks glance back at the man. Restraints or no, what kind of charges could Dumbledore have against him?

"Once we get it we can send someone by with it," Kingsley replied. "Until everything's been settled though we're going to have to ask you to remain here."

"That's to be expected," Dumbledore said jovially with a glance over his half-moon spectacles as Kingsley motioned to the other guard across from her to open the gates. "Amelia made me sign a binding agreement amounting to a kind of house arrest, and the Ministry had it activated immediately, so I'm quite content not to flee the country. There was talk though the Minister had wanted an Unbreakable Vow, if you can believe it."

"Even he wouldn't be so foolish," her superior said with a look implying that in fact the man might've been but someone had undoubtedly talked him around into seeing sense.

"My wand?" the headmaster asked curiously.

"Ah," the other man said uncomfortably. "Unfortunately I wouldn't be able to give it to you even if I had it. It's been decided that having one isn't necessary for you to oversee Hogwarts or prepare your defense," Kingsley informed him. "But rest assured it's in good hands and will be returned to you at the proper time."

Dumbledore seemed to contemplate that for a moment before he spoke.

"I suppose I can see their point," he said finally. "It is yet another burden I must bear to clear my name. I thank you and all your officers for their service, and apologize that I must inconvenience them in this way," the old headmaster smiled. "Would anyone care for a cup of hot cocoa?"

Tonks definitely could've used one but Kingsley declined for them all saying it wouldn't be appropriate.

"Should you change your mind, you know where I'll be," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye before closing the gate and starting towards the castle.

Before the man had gone far a red and gold bird came swooping down towards him so fast it seemed to leave streaks of color behind it. It pulled up and fluttered around him before settling on his shoulder. With the other replacements getting instructions on who to relieve, herself amongst them, Tonks abandoned her duties to stare at the strange but beautiful creature.

"Ah, Fawkes," Dumbledore said, looking up to greet the bird. "Back from your trip I see."

The bird briefly sang a mournful song in response.

"Ah, yes, I see," the headmaster nodded as if the bird had actually spoken and he began to walk away. "Of course it's one thing to know it would happen, and quite another to know it has. I'm sure they would have been happy to see you again though," Dumbledore said consolingly before the bird sang again, differently this time.

"Really?" he asked sounding somewhat surprised. "So that is what all this is about. Curious that no one saw fit to tell me. Still," the man said with a tone housing an obvious grin, "won't they feel the fool once all's said and done?"

The bird he called Fawkes sang out a trill as they receded.

"No, but thank you," Dumbledore told the bird. "A few stairs don't concern me, and we must consider what everyone else might think. It wouldn't do to excite them."

As the man's flowing purple robe faded into the night Tonks glanced over to Kingsley to see the same peculiar look on his face she knew she had to have on hers.

"Is he... alright?" she asked her superior, though asking if he was 'all there' was what she really wanted to know. She'd always thought of the headmaster as delightfully quirky, but talking to a bird?

"The greatest wizards have always been a little eccentric," Shacklebolt said dubiously. "What concerns me more is the phoenix. I've heard of it but is the first time I've seen it. They're supposed to have rather unique traveling abilities."

"So if he does try to run, he'd have a getaway option easily at hand," Tonks said, her tired brain finally good for something. "If he's already agreed not to leave," she said thinking it through, "does that even matter or should we try to take it from him just to be safe? And if it's that unique, would a normal anti-disapparition jinx even hold it?"

"Good questions," Kingsley replied, pulling out the small pad he used to make notes with. "Either way your concerns will be noted. Good work."

"Er– Thanks," she said not really knowing how to take the complement since Moody never gave them and her dealings with Kingsley had always been in the combat area of things. "I don't really want to ask this," Tonks said with a little bit of a sigh as she felt her weariness return. "But how long do I have before I'm back on guard duty again?"

"You're not going to be," he replied, brushing away the tiredness again temporarily. "After what happened in Diagon Alley, Scrimgeour's pulled all trainees out of the field."

"What really happened in–?"

"Do you really want to wait around and hear it now or get some sleep and find out later?" Kingsley asked with a cocked eyebrow, though his face looked like he could use the sleep too.

"Sleep," she replied as she turned to walk away. "Definitely sleep."

"Then sleep well... Pinky."

Tonks paused a moment as her shoulders hunched, her fingers twitched, and her lips writhed in frustration. Briefly she thought of hexing the man but surprise attacks had never ended well for her in training and the ground here was harder.

"Gah!" she cried, throwing up her hands and storming off.

She was unable to outpace the gaggle of giggles following her down the road from Hogwarts that left her more angry than tired.

If she ever saw that old friend of Moody's again she may just have to kill him.

.o0O0o.

The journey up to his office always seemed longer than the trip down, even with Fawkes there as company, but such was the way of things. Everything you learned, everything you did, or said, or even left unsaid was but one small step in the laborious journey of your life that took you from the most humble of beginnings to the loftiest heights. Coming down from those heights though was quick in comparison.

He had been hoping to serve out the remainder of his days softly influencing the Wizengamot and the international community in ways best according to the Greater Good and therefore hadn't seen his own quick descent coming at all. In hindsight though it should have been obvious. All of the signs had been there, Albus had simply not wanted to see them.

Try as he might, his ways were not the ways of the Greater Good; there was still too much pride and vanity in him, he saw that now. What did the Greater Good care of appearances, of the image he presents to others? It cared nothing for that. It was humble and chose to act in ways so circuitous and indistinct it masked the fact it did anything at all; that's how he should be, not flouncing about in glamorous gowns and bedazzling boots. He felt like such an old fool.

If the Greater Good was testing his mettle for the trials and tribulations ahead then of course everything which made him who he was was going to be subject to its scrutiny as well. One by one things may be taken away from him so he might be cleansed; his positions, his fame, his accomplishments, his good name, even his health. If such was the price to be a better servant then it was one he was willing to pay.

Albus wanted to be optimistic for what this would mean for the future but knew such optimism had to be constrained and removed as well. The Greater Good did not live that way, it lived every moment in an ever-flowing present, briefly mindful of where things have been and curious as to where it's going, but never so presumptuous as to decree what should and should not be before it gets there – and only rarely giving hints at what might be. Before, he'd been left to his own devices and the imperfections within him allowed to grow, now he was being scoured clean; in the future the trial would well and truly begin and what would happen then only the Greater Good would decide.

With a ride up the spiraling staircase to the Griffin Door, Albus arrived at last at the place he called his home, at least for now. Transferring Fawkes to his hand he extended his arm so he might go to his perch, instead he trilled out a song making him think of height, and comfort, and snuggling up by himself. Albus nodded and redirected his steps towards the large Gothic style cabinet so the phoenix could alight upon it and make itself at home.

As curious as phoenixes were there were fewer still who were curious about them. Soon after he had gained a rapport with the bird Fawkes had done two astonishing things: it became somewhat intelligible to him through the vague impressions it gave and began constructing a shallow nest interwoven with strands of his own hair. Sadly, though, the person in charge of looking after Sparky, the mascot of the Moutohora Macaws of New Zealand, had always been very tight-lipped about the habits of their phoenix so he's never been able to verify whether either were normal behaviors.

As he walked to his desk he saw that one of the elves had prepared a small snack and appeared to have found a Daily Prophet for him. Albus had the warm sticky bun halfway to his mouth when he turned over the paper to get a look at the headline. Dropping the nutty snack, it fell into his beard and landed in his lap, but it was his own image gazing back at him which held him ensnared.

'So this was what those comments were about,' he thought as he looked through the article.

The Greater Good had truly wanted him blind to what had happened today and so delayed the paper's arrival and never once had anyone mention it directly. Looking back though the security guard's "Ida beee seeing you" and Rita's interest in him did make a great deal of sense. Misses Woodbead and Nithercott fawning all over him also became equally embarrassing; Merlin knew what they'd make of what he said.

Albus tried to shake himself from such thoughts for they were exactly the kind he should be ridding himself of. If he was embarrassed and made fun of then it was all for the best; the Greater Good had arranged it after all and it was his place to accept what it gave, and what it took away.

Perhaps he should write to Bathilda though and advise her against revealing who had truly written those books. They had spoken often during the war about Heroes and the Burden they bear, of the Trials they face, the Virtues they instill in them, and how such tales can be instructive, not only to individuals, but to entire societies. So, when she admitted the secret desire she had to try her hand at an original composition, who was he to say no?

But if someone was to take on the shame and public derision for making them then who better than him, the person who'd already been marked out for it? It would help to reduce his pride and serve a little bit of heartbreak for having it in the first place. Albus dug the sticky bun out of his sticky beard as Fawkes sang again, giving him the impression of warmth and another location.

"Thank you, Fawkes, but no," he smiled. "You go ahead and rest there. One of the school owls will do when I'm ready."

Out of habit his hand went to his pocket to draw his wand in order to clean the nuts from his beard when he quickly remembered he didn't have it anymore. Albus felt naked without it and thought of searching for his old one or stopping by the Room of Requirement to see if anyone had lost any that would do before he shunned the idea. If the Greater Good had wanted him to have a wand then he'd have a wand, instead he was to be humble, weak, and powerless and so 'having one isn't necessary.'

His new circumstances would take some getting used to.

.o0O0o.

If Molly thought she had nothing left to lose confidence in, the days since the stone goblin head crashed into the house had proven her wrong again. Though it called itself 'The Daily Prophet,' in truth it wasn't printed everyday. Occasionally there was an Evening Prophet, though those were rather rare, but rarer still were the weekend editions.

The last time it'd happened was the day after You-Know-Who had paid a call on the Potters and had been resoundingly defeated by a baby. That news had sparked celebrations for days afterwards, though now Molly felt a deepening sense of shame at feeling so happy when the child who'd grow up to do so much for her family had just lost his parents. She'd kept that Prophet as a keepsake but now she didn't know whether it'd be best to get rid of it; it was such a positive piece it really wouldn't do if Harry or the boys started poking around and found it.

This Saturday's Weekend Prophet gave her no such thrills at all. Goblins, dragons, and a large tower dominated the page though ruins and bodies were still strewn about everywhere; thankfully though they were all goblins. They didn't mention any human participation at all outside of the I.C.W. leader, Delta Coors, but she thought she'd die if they'd named Bill as someone who was helping them. That was before she'd gotten to the part with the Ministry though.

Molly didn't know who this Dolores Umbridge was but everyone with any sense knew not to provoke the goblins, much less try to steal from them. What had she been thinking trying to take the Isle of Gringotts from them just because old saint Nicholas Flamel was there? It had Gringotts in the name, of course it belonged to them!

Dumbledore hadn't been spared either. Rita had taken great pains in explaining the man's ties to Flamel, why the Sorcerer's Stone was dangerous, and outlining some of what they knew about how the headmaster had stolen it in the first place. None of this made her feel any better about him or Hogwarts but with the kids' tuitions already paid for this year they really had nothing they could do but let them go and hope Albus wouldn't be there long.

The third strike against the Ministry came with the dragon being loosed on Diagon Alley. She didn't know who's bright idea it'd been to attack the bank but whoever'd done it deserved to be thrown to those very same dragons for putting people in so much danger. As much as it shocked her, Molly was finding herself actually understanding why the goblins had done what they had. How could the Ministry be so stupid?

Neither she nor Arthur knew if what Bill was doing in helping the goblins was the right thing to do but in the end he was right. They just had to have faith they had raised the boy to know right from wrong and hope he knew what he was doing. It'd be so much easier to do it though if they knew who to root for.

Things got murkier in Monday's Prophet where – looking at things the way the Ministry explained them – the goblins had illegally seized land that didn't belong to them, threatened Ms. Umbridge, and kidnapped a handful of Ministry hit wizards. At least the I.C.W. had expelled Dumbledore, though why the Ministry insisted on protecting the man was lost on her. Give Harry the chance to move on with his life and let the foreigners have Albus.

And thinking about Harry, it was certainly a good thing his girl was visiting. It was only every other day but it kept him in good spirits and gave him something to focus on. Merlin knew he needed a distraction from his own problems towards the middle of the week when the Prophet got wind of the boy's case against Dumbledore and followed it up with a very derogatory critique of those trashy Boy Who Lived books Ginny liked.

It seemed as though Ginny was doing better too in some ways. She spent so much time outside now she'd been able to poke around her room to make sure all those books were gone. Molly managed to find several hidden spots just the right size for hiding things but besides her school books and a diary she'd gotten somewhere there wasn't a book to be seen except for "A Fan's Guide to the Holyhead Harpies." She left the diary untouched. Every girl needed a girlish outlet, even ones who ran around with the boys.

Besides Harry though things weren't going so well on the Hermione front. She was very polite but all the girl had to do was show up and Molly could see the little rain cloud form over Ginny, who always seemed to make some excuse before dragging Luna off with her. Fred and George had always been more inclined to pal around with themselves but what she hadn't expected was Ron had begun slipping away from them soon after she arrived too.

In the fear Ron might be experiencing the same thing as Ginny she'd pulled him aside on Thursday thinking that if the Ministry couldn't find a way to ease the tension and fear hanging over Diagon Alley at least she could in her own home. Thankfully the boy wasn't being that way at all; his problem was that it 'felt weird' being around them now they were – as he put it – 'you know.' She was so relieved she started giving him advice without ever realizing she was doing it.

"You normally wouldn't have had to deal with this for a few years," she'd told her son kindly as they stood in the kitchen, "but it was bound to happen eventually. The same thing happened to me once my girl friends started finding boys they liked. What you have to remember though is just because they've become a little more than friends with each other doesn't mean they're not still friends with you," Molly explained.

"I've seen them invite you to talk and read and do whatever with them when they go off to talk muggle with your father," she went on to say, "so they're making an effort, but you always slink away. Your friendship's changing a bit so, sure, they'll probably want to spend some time just with each other, but they'll find ways of letting you know when that is. You're not doing yourself any favors by pulling away completely; all you'll do is end up without either of them as friends and they certainly don't want that."

She had dipped into her past and managed to come up with something that not only related to him and his situation but also provided some pearls of wisdom he could use in the future that she'd found useful herself. Molly didn't know if Ron took it all to heart but it certainly made her feel better. The next time the two settled down in the living room to study he did join them though but she'd had to stop herself from laughing at the girl's exasperated "What have you been doing all this time?" when she found out Ron hadn't started on his homework after all. She peeked around the corner and gave him a serious look instead that sent him scurrying for a quill.

All that aside she still felt rather hopeless when it came to what they'd do for the future and talking to Arthur just had things going around in circles. Either Hogwarts would revoke Percy's Hopefuls tuition or they wouldn't so they could only plan for the worst and hope for the best. How they'd plan for the worst though depended on their income and Arthur said the chances of him getting a pay raise was slim to none.

He hadn't said anything else about it since that first time but she couldn't deny part of her liked the idea of being a Glenda Goodwitch. It was a quiet position of trust within the community; you couldn't go to just anyone with your homemaking woes, you needed someone who understood. And really, when you thought about it, it wasn't like there was a lot of work involved; she might even be able to work from home and wait to start actually doing it until the school term started. With all the cooking and cleaning she needed to do being taken care of by Dobby it wasn't like she couldn't do it now though if they'd said she couldn't wait.

There was also something she hadn't considered before – and she had to remember to thank Bill for bringing this to mind later. What kind of message would it be sending to Ginny – to all her children really but to Ginny in particular? Would she be telling them that things were so bad they had to do everything they could to get more money or would she be seen as a confident and outgoing woman going forth to make her mark on the world?

The first was certainly true, though she wouldn't want them to know. The second part was a lie though because she was petrified, though of what she wasn't quite sure. What if they said no? What if no one wrote to her? What if she tried and wasn't any good? What if nobody liked her? She might not be the best in the world but she certainly didn't want to become known as the world's worst homemaker. And worse, what if after putting herself through all that they let her go and they still didn't get the money they need? Who'd give her a job afterwards if she failed that badly?

"Arthur?" she said quietly from where she was curled up on her side of the bed.

"Hm?" he replied as he shifted.

Molly didn't know how to ask any of those things, let alone what was at the root of all those anxieties, so instead she asked him something else.

"Do you really think I'd make a good Glenda Goodwitch?" she asked, casting her fears into the dark wee hours between Thursday and Friday.

Arthur turned on his side and snuggled up behind her so that she was his little spoon and kissed her on the shoulder before saying the thing he'd said to her all those years ago when she was doubting her plan to escape.

"My Mollywobbles can do anything," he said as he put his arm around her.

Quiet tears of silent relief sprang from her eyes and she hugged the arm that held her. He always knew exactly what he needed to say.

.o0O0o.

AN: Now I know what you're thinking, Prince didn't change his name to a symbol and become 'The Artist Formerly Known As Prince' until 1993. And you're right; that's a bit of an anachronism on my part. Let's face it though, no one but me went back to look it up so if you all promise to keep it quiet I think Jean-Claude Van Damme's 'Timecop' won't show up from two years in this story's future to arrest Harry for making an inappropriate reference. ;)

As an additional note, in the tenth scene where Molly's worrying about the kids schooling, she's thinking ahead to the year beyond the one that's about to start. She's worrying about how they'll pay for Ginny's second year, Ron's third, the twins' fifth, and Percy's seventh year all at the same time when they've never been able to (or had to) pay for so many years at the same time. That switch into thinking about distant concerns seems to have confused some people, so I just wanted to be clear.

As always, thanks for reading.