A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, if you care about that sort of thing. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Fourteen: Hero's Calling

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"Professor? Are you all right?"

Ella blinked, opening her eyes to see the familiar sight of Siggy hovering before her, hugging her notebook to her chest.

The lecture had gone as well as could be expected. She still wasn't sure how she had managed it all — to stand before an audience of a hundred students and carry on as if nothing was wrong. To let her voice ring throughout the room as she discussed theories and magical science and space calculations like nothing else mattered. But she had.

And now she was exhausted. She was so utterly beat, that she wasn't sure how she was ever going to drag herself up from the edge of the stage. But if sitting here was becoming a pattern, she was glad that Siggy stopping by for a chat after class was, too.

"Just fine," she said, her heart warming slightly at the sight. Her eyes had drifted to Siggy often during the lesson, and she had been pleased to see her taking notes this time around. And now, again, they were meeting like this. And she realized she would have been a bit disappointed if they hadn't. The world wasn't the same place it had been once; it was a sentiment she was sure Siggy could understand more than most. "How are you doing, Siggy? With everything?"

"I'm all right," Siggy said, glancing briefly at the floor. "It's hard, but we're managing somehow… I'm so glad you're back. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Ella said, tilting her head slightly as she contemplated Siggy. "Well... Has Dan talked to you about…" She faltered, unsure of what exactly she had meant to say. Of where to draw the line. Had she already crossed it? Had Daniyel twisted it all round? And yet she couldn't really fault him. If he was going to fall for any of her students, she was glad it was Siggy.

"Er," Siggy said, "Dan hasn't said anything other than you're feeling ill. And he wasn't sure if you'd be teaching today. I haven't actually seen him since last week, so I…"

"Sorry, that's my fault," Ella said, feeling a tiny stab of guilt. "Well, partially my fault. He's also been busy with the Auror office. But he's been very supportive in his spare time. He's a wonderful friend."

"Right," Siggy said, nodding. "I mean, yes, he told me he went back. Which is great. And I'm seeing him tomorrow! I just meant, er… I was worried. But I'm glad you're here." She smiled a little weakly, as if she found the whole exchange awkward. Ella found it heartwarming, though. She smiled at the thought of Siggy finding some small comfort in Daniyel despite the darkness in her own life. Of holding on to enough empathy, despite what she'd lost, to care about someone else. It was something Harry would do.

"I'm glad I'm here, too. Thank you." She was glad. And she realized, then, that the line had all but vanished. Siggy wasn't just a student anymore, and Ella was hardly only her professor. And while Daniyel had contributed to the confusion, the underlying cause was simply loss. Tragedy. Empathy. It was all tied together. Her own relationship with Siggy had changed, and would likely have to change more under the circumstances. So why not now?

"I suppose," Ella said slowly, "if you're going to be seeing Dan, then, well…" She trailed off, the words catching in her throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Siggy said quickly, her cheeks tinting with red. "Is it not allowed? I wasn't sure if…"

"There's no rules against it," Ella said. "Dan isn't your professor, so you don't need to worry. No, it's more that I think I might have put Dan in an awkward position with you." She glanced down at her hands. "The truth is, well, I am working through something, er, health related. It's… a bit serious. That's why I wasn't here last week. And it's…" She sighed. God, this was harder than she had realized it would be. This much would have to do for now. She'd save the rest for later.

"It's not something I'm very good at sharing, as you can see," she added, smiling weakly. "But I trust you, Siggy. It's something I'll be getting ongoing treatment for, and I don't want Dan to have to lie to you on my behalf."

"I'm so sorry, Professor," Siggy said softly, after a slight pause. "I hope everything will be all right with your… with you."

"Thank you," Ella said, glancing down briefly. "Me too. And I'll make sure to leave Dan alone this week." She grinned. "He's wonderful, honestly. I'm glad you both are having a good time."

"Oh, Professor, no," Siggy said, blushing again. "Don't worry about me. Your health should come first. And thank you. For trusting me. I won't say a word, I promise."

"All right," Ella said, the moment stretching between them. "Go on, it's late. Have fun tomorrow."

Siggy nodded, shot Ella a shy grin, and slipped out of the hall.

When he wasn't thinking about Ella or the Ministry or Rookwood, Daniyel was thinking about Siggy. The Ministry and Rookwood were very much tied together in his mind, so mostly he was thinking about three things in almost equal measure. But he had spent days on end at the Ministry, and had spent two lunch hours at St. Mungo's and three evenings at Harry and Ella's — or, as he affectionately called them: Hella's— flat this week alone. And he hadn't seen Siggy since a stolen lunch hour last Thursday, where they had exchanged slices of pie and conversation at the Leaky Cauldron before he'd had to hurry back to the office. So on Friday evening, as he finally stepped into the empty lift heading down to the Atrium and stifled a yawn, the thought of an entire day spent solely in her company in just a few short hours made him grin in earnest.

He couldn't quite say whether he'd found Siggy at the entirely worst time, or if it was actually the best time. Because despite everything going on with Ella, and with the Ministry, and with Robert, and Rookwood, and Siggy's own family, every moment of time they managed to carve out somehow made him smile like an idiot. Was it normal to feel this way? He couldn't remember the last time it had happened. Certainly not for years. And he couldn't quantify why he felt that way, why it was her. Why seeing her had stirred something in his heart enough to actually care about anything other than a one night stand. But now that the feeling was found, he was loath to let it go. No matter how many broken Ministries stood between them.

And broken Ministries they were. With no fresh leads, they had spent the previous week reviewing and re-analyzing the evidence they already had. They had identified 57 of the 115 wands confiscated from Rookwood's home as belonging to witches and wizards who died prior to 1900, giving breath to Hermione's theory; but it brought them no closer to finding Rookwood or identifying a motive. The remaining contents from Mysteries had been recovered and cataloged; a meager collection that told them nothing, other that Levina Monkstanley's wand was indeed missing.

"And that could mean anything," Harry had said in frustration, when he glanced over the report. "Either Rookwood took it, or it got destroyed in the blast. And we have no way of knowing which one."

Which, unfortunately, was true. The structural damage had been repaired and the space examined inch by inch, but the shell of Mysteries bore no answers as to who had been responsible for its destruction. No traces of a magical signature that did not belong. And even though its skeleton remained, it would take years to rebuild what was lost within its halls.

But Daniyel could shelve it. For the space of a day, he could step away, lock thoughts of the Ministry in a distant corner of his mind almost as if he were implementing Occlumency on himself, and focus on something which made the world seem a little brighter. Siggy. And the note from Ella, which had appeared at his desk earlier that evening by way of interdepartmental memo, transferred from its initial arrival at the Owlery.

Dan, you don't have to lie to Siggy about me if it comes up. It's fine if she knows. I reckon someday I'll tell everyone anyway, once I remember what being a Gryffindor feels like. Enjoy your date, I hear it's going to be glorious! E

He had grabbed a scrap of parchment from his desk, scribbling, "As if anyone has to remind you what being a Gryffindor means!" before walking it back up to the Owlery, where Hedwig was waiting patiently. She had nipped him lightly on the cheek, in a slightly weary way, before taking off into the dusk. At nearly twenty, she was just as beautiful as she had been when he first laid eyes on her, even if her days of long journeys were nearing an end, and were now mostly handled by Harry and Ella's new boreal owl, Sauri. He had watched her shape vanish into the darkness before heading back down to continue their unending investigations into the remaining wands, beaming all the while.

He knew it was difficult, that Ella struggled with it immensely; sharing this thing which had torn apart her world and was now consuming other bits of her life. But she was willing to do so to help him maintain integrity in his own relationship, and that meant everything. It was brave, selfless beyond words. Her seal of approval.

He stepped into his empty flat through the blaze of the Floo, the fire momentarily flaring into shadows before he ignited the lights with a wordless flick of his wand. Tonight, the flat was empty. Cold. But tomorrow was another day, another adventure. And he thought, as his eyes trailed across the small green shape that lay on the mantelpiece, that he had just the perfect one in mind.

Siggy showed up at the small park they had designated as their meeting spot a few short minutes after him. She hurried in his direction, clutching a small paper bag that looked greasy on the bottom and sporting a shy grin.

"Hey!" she said, stopping in front of him.

"Hey." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "What's that?"

"Paszteciki." She lifted the bag, which smelled superbly appetizing. "They're meat and mushroom pies. It's Tata's recipe. Are you hungry?"

He grinned. "Sure, sounds brilliant."

They bought two cups of tea from a street vendor at the park entrance before sitting down on a small bench and laying out the food between them. The pastry was still steaming when Daniyel bit into it, and he savored the explosion of flavors that burst across his taste buds. A light and flaky crust. The earthy taste of mushrooms mixed with beef and onions, and swathed in butter and childhood memories.

"This reminds me of something my grandparents used to make," he said, washing down the pastry with a sip of scalding tea after he complimented its composition. "When I was little."

"It's a traditional Polish dish," she said, eyeing him with curiosity. "Have you got Polish roots?"

"Not Polish," he said, "but my grandparents on Dad's side lived in Russia, before the Muggle war. They were Jewish, though, so I'm not really Russian either."

"Oh, so maybe you've had piroshki then. They're similar."

"Yeah, that word's familiar! I haven't had them in ages."

"So you're Jewish then?" Siggy asked. "I mean besides being a wizard."

"Kind of. But not really," Daniyel said with a laugh "I suppose it depends on if you go by blood or not. My dad is, but Mum isn't, so I suppose I'm just British. And a wizard. And technically, I reckon I'm Muggleborn? I'm all over the place, really."

Siggy smiled. "Like me, then." She contemplated him over her tea. "That must have been hard for your grandparents. The Muggle war was really widespread, even here. But I suppose at least you didn't have Grindelwald to contend with, too. Was it horrible for them?"

He nodded, staring dazedly into space for a short spell. "Not as bad as it could've been. But my grandpa was a soldier, and Grandma was a nurse. She lost her brother on the front lines — I'm named after him, actually. They made it out, though. Met a little while after it was all over and booked it to London in the 1970s. I think they were hoping their children would never know another war. I guess they couldn't have expected that I would…" He trailed off, his thoughts drifting inadvertently straight back to the battle at Shadow Hogwarts. Would he ever really leave it behind?

"I'm sorry," Siggy said softly, brushing her fingers against his. "They sound amazing, your grandparents. Like heroes." She smiled.

"They definitely were." If not for their contribution to the war, then for the life they had carved out for their children — the one he had been lucky enough to enjoy by simply being born into it at the right moment. They were gone now, but he still remembered their warm laughs; their small house in North London, filled with the ever-present smell of fried potatoes and cooking oil; his grandpa helping him with verb conjugations as he continued conquering a new language well into his 70s. They had never been flashy; had stored their war medals in dusty cabinets and kept their uniforms tucked away. And when they did share those war stories, they spoke not of their hardships or accomplishments, but of family. Long-forgotten childhood stories. They were the sort of heroes who didn't glow as brightly, perhaps, as he or Harry had managed. But in his heart their lights shone just the same.

They finished the paszteciki and tea, exchanging words between bites. By the time they were done, Daniyel had summed up the entirety of his childhood acting career while Siggy painted a rather compelling picture of Szymbark and her childhood. She described its abandoned upside-down houses, which used to belong to wizards of the 19th century before the disillusionment charms wore off over the course of a hundred years, forcing them to become Muggle attractions. She spoke of running through their attics and climbing to their basement roofs with her sister Kasia in tow. Her voice grew wistful and her eyes teary as she fell into memories of family outings at the lake beside her small village.

"Mum would tan and read," she said, staring off somewhere into the distance, "and Tata would cook. Fish, usually. And Kasia and I would swim. She always said she wanted to swim to the other side. It wasn't a very big lake, but she was tiny, so it was big to her."

"Did she swim across then?"

"No," Siggy said with a small sigh. "We moved… and she never did."

They Vanished the remains of their lunch, and Daniyel stood up, offering Siggy a hand to pull her to her feet. "Shall we go adventuring?"

"Sure," she said. "That sounds interesting. What did you have in mind?"

"Something a bit warmer," he said, pitching his voice into a tone of mystery. He glanced briefly around the park, but it was quite deserted. "You may want to Transfigure your clothes into something less… wintery. Keep it Muggle, though."

"All right," she said, tilting her head in curiosity as she drew out her wand. "Well, how much warmer is it?"

"Late September." He poked his wand at his own coat, feeling it thin out around him to let in the February chill. Then he slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the small green Stone, laying it flat on his palm.

"Wait…" Siggy gasped, her eyes widening as they took in the green shape. "Is that your… is that—"

"A ticket to Muggle London," Daniyel said, his voice barely louder than the wind. He grinned. "In 2019. If you'd like to see it."

"Oh! I…" She seemed lost for words, staring at the stone in his hand. "You actually want to take me to… Wow! It looks so… it's green?"

He rolled his eyes at that. "Ella — er, your professor, that is — color-coded them. She said it matches my eyes."

"Oh," Siggy said, letting out a small laugh. "So hers is… hers is brown?"

"No, it's blue. That's her favorite color. It's my favorite color too, but she didn't want to share, I suppose."

"Oh," Siggy said again, still staring at the Stone in awe as he wordlessly swept his wand across his face, tinting his eyes to hazel as his hair grew slightly lighter, "right. What are you doing?"

"Muggle disguise." He grinned sheepishly. "They take their movie stars a bit too seriously over there. Are you ready?"

She nodded, reaching out a tentative hand to touch the Stone in his palm. He felt it pulse once as her fingers brushed against it, her magical energy mixing with its field and dancing around his own. Siggy shut her eyes tight, gripping his arm with her other hand so hard that it shook.

"Don't worry," he whispered, casting one last look around the deserted park, "I've tested it with Ella, and it works perfectly. Hold on." And he closed his own eyes, visualizing Muggle London in the darkness as the energy of the Stone burst around them. He felt the makeup of the park explode, shattering into a million fragments that shifted and reformed about them, like pieces of a puzzle slipping into place to match the picture in his mind. The cold air shifted, winter melting into late fall as the ground trembled slightly. The blare of a car horn sliced through the sleepy air, the bustling sounds of the city trailing in its wake, weaving into their surroundings. Hurried footsteps and excited chatter filled his ears. The hum of a busy street. He abruptly opened his eyes and whirled around, pulling Siggy with him, but they had landed off the main road. Which he intended. They were in an alley; small and dark, and thankfully empty. He let out a relieved breath.

"Are we here?" Siggy gasped, stumbling a bit as he pulled her around, and he gripped her elbow to steady her.

"Yep," he said. "Just off Piccadilly Circus. Sorry, are you all right? It was a bit abrupt."

"Oh, yes, I'm fine." She peered down the alley toward the main thoroughfare. "I actually thought it'd be… more jarring. It wasn't bad at all."

"It can be worse, actually, but it improves with practice," Daniyel said with a grin as he led her out onto the road, where a million Muggles hurried past them without a second glance. "According to Ella, Harry's pretty terrible. Nearly caused a small earthquake at her parents' place."

"Oh," Siggy said, her mouth dropping open as she stared around Piccadilly Circus, taking in the gigantic curved display, which glowed brightly even in the daylight. "Dan, isn't that magic?"

"Muggle magic," Daniyel said, stepping aside as a family with small children filed past them, chattering excitedly. "They call it technology. You haven't been to Piccadilly before?"

She shook her head, still staring around with wide eyes, before adding in a whisper, "There must be a million Muggles here!"

"Probably, it's a bit mad," he admitted, leading her down Shaftesbury Avenue, where they fell into step behind a small group of chattering teenagers. "Actually, I wanted to show you something else. It's right along here. I think you'll get a bit of a laugh. And then we can walk along the river and pretend we're tourists and look at all the new skyscrapers. They're pretty wild."

"All right," she said. "What is it?"

"Ah, it's a theatre. There's a play on."

"Oh!" she said. "A Muggle play… Are we going to watch it?"

"Definitely not." Daniyel grinned, turning to face her as they paused at the light. He lowered his voice, though the hum of bustling traffic around them made it mostly unnecessary. "So you know how before we came to your world, we were actors, right? And that Harry Potter was a children's film series?"

"Right," she said. "Muggle plays. And books. Seems a bit dark for children, really."

"Ha," he said. "Yes, those too. Films are a little different from plays, actually, I'll have to show you, but speaking of plays—"

But he never finished speaking of plays.

There was a loud screech behind him. The blare of a horn. A crashing squeal of grinding metal. And the most heart-wrenching human scream, which seemed to pierce straight through his chest. All in the space of a breath. He saw it all play out without looking, across the canvas of Siggy's face. Saw it reflected in her eyes as she flicked her wrist, the wand sliding into her hand so fast it was a blur as her mouth moved to form a Protego! he couldn't hear. And she was off, running past him as he whirled around at last, her hair whipping his cheek.

He saw the car — a white blur careening towards the pavement, crashing into the edge of an invisible shield that shuddered on impact, sending shockwaves out into the air as it teetered on the edge of shattering. And Siggy was running ahead without a second glance, darting straight into its path where a small girl stood frozen, steps from the curb. And the shield was cracking. Shattering under the force of the car in some sort of surreal twist on reality where action scenes played out on streets he'd known his whole life and magic swept through Muggle London. And it couldn't be, because these things just didn't bloody happen. The air wasn't supposed to taste and smell like burning metal. But it did.

And he was moving, somehow, his feet running in her direction as the shield began to falter, his hand reaching for the wand buried beneath his sleeve.

"Protego!" he hissed, urging more energy into the shield. Its edges expanded, softened, until it stretched like elastic. Like jelly. Until the car was trapped within it as firmly as if it were glue, slowing down, down… until it finally drew to a halt inches from Siggy, who landed hard on the pavement, the small child cradled firmly against her chest, black hair tangling with brown.

The car let out a final ear-shattering screech as the shield released it, and the street was momentarily swathed in silence. It lasted for only a moment, as if everyone in the vicinity was collectively holding their breath. And then the sounds of a hundred cries echoed around him, burying the silence beneath it as the crowd all surged forward at once.