"How do the new wards feel?" Theo asked when Rachel lowered her hands.

"Still getting used to them, but they feel good. Solid," Rachel said. Bill had spent the morning with them going over what he was doing and letting them ask questions. Rachel had paid him as much as he would accept, which wasn't nearly enough to her mind.

Severus had performed the Fidelius charm that afternoon after they'd had lunch. He'd left them two notes that they could use to show people the address so that they could have people over. Rachel intended to be somewhat selective. Her days of hosting the Wizengamot in her home were over.

She moved to the sofa, letting the cats climb over her once she sat down. They'd both been clinging after being alone for a day and a half.

Theo sat down next to her, though out of the range of the cats. "How are you feeling about being back here?"

"I'm alright. I've already been in the back garden and that was alright." There were two small charred marks on the grass from where Crouch Junior had been standing when he'd been struck by lightning. Rachel needed some grass seed before she could fix it. After that, there wouldn't be any sign at all that anything had happened. "Are you doing alright?" she checked.

"Mostly concerned about you. I had hoped…I had hoped we were past all of the Death Eater and war stuff," he admitted.

"Me too. I'm really okay. I was shaken at first, but I'm alright now." That was mostly true.

A new thought had occurred to her sometime in the early morning hours. She could find out if Crouch Junior had been working alone. She might even be able to find out how he was taking down the wards. Rachel had killed him. That meant she should have access to his memories in the Morsius Pensieve.

There was no one she could talk about that to expect for Patrick. And she wasn't sure she wanted to. She wasn't sure she could bear going through another person's life in the Morsius Pensieve. Maybe if she didn't say anything, Patrick wouldn't realize.

It would probably depend on whether or not there were more attacks. If there were, then she was pretty much honor bound to try and access his memories and see who he was working with. If not, then maybe she had options.

She really didn't know anything about Barty Crouch Junior. She knew he'd been sentenced to Azkaban by his own father. She knew he'd escaped somehow. She knew he'd killed his father with the Draught of Living Death and impersonated him for over a year with Polyjuice. And that was about it. She didn't know why he'd become a Death Eater. His family hadn't been involved with the Death Eaters, so that wasn't it.

Rachel suspected that if Rufus and Amelia knew about the Morius Pensieve, they'd ask her to do this. Knowing how he had been recruited could be valuable. Knowing what he'd been up to during the years after the war and how he'd escaped detection and capture could help them find other Death Eaters. There was a lot they could learn from his life.

And she didn't want to do it. She just didn't.

She focused on where she was petting Feverfew next to her. Dingbat was curled up in a ball on her lap, purring intently.

"Do you ever have a decision to make, and you know what the right choice is, but you don't want to do it anyway?" she asked.

"Sometimes," Theo hedged. "Sometimes doing the adult thing is hard."

Rachel nodded. She was nearly thirty and sometimes being an adult was still hard.

"What sort of decision?" he asked after it had been quiet for a while.

"One with the Unspeakables."

"Meaning you can't talk about it," he said.

"Not really. I just…there's something that I could do that would potentially help the situation. And I don't want to do it," she admitted.

"I'm sure you have your reasons, and that they're very good reasons. You've never been someone who shies away from self sacrifice. You've sacrificed too much for the war and Britain if you ask me."

She felt that way sometimes too. Magical Britain and the Ministry had asked a lot from her over the years. Was it so bad if just this one time she chose what was best for herself?

"Do you have a certain time frame that you have to make this decision in?" Theo asked.

"It depends on what they ask of me. I'm not sure anyone will realize this is a possibility. I'm not sure I'm going to tell them if they don't realize."

He set his hand on her arm. "I'll tell you my preference. I would prefer that you do what is best for you. You've done enough for the war."

"We'll see. If there are more attacks, then I sort of feel I have to do what I can to help. And I'm the only person who can do this," she said.

"The decision is yours. Just let me know what I can do to support you," he said, squeezing her arm slightly.

She moved so that she could take his hand. "Just having you here is enough."

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. At the very least they could get through all of this together.


"Anything else?" Rachel checked, shifting through the piles of work that Booker had brought her. Being absent from her Wizengamot office for two work days meant she had plenty to go through.

"A number of people have checked in asking after your well-being. I anticipate that once they recognize you're in today, people will want to drop by. Do you want me to stay and send them away?" he offered.

The bad thing was that she genuinely considered it for a moment. She'd done a lot of soothing people's worries about her these past two days. "No. I can handle them. Hopefully just seeing me here will put their minds at ease."

"I'm sure seeing that you are well will do most of the work. General assurances that the MLE has everything under control will go a long way," he agreed.

Rachel had her own feelings about how much control of the situation the MLE had, but she kept those feelings to herself. In public she was supportive of Amelia and Gawain.

"Another thing to note is that Francis has some revisions on his latest tax proposal. We should be getting them within the next week," Booker continued, clearly knowing he was delivering bad news.

"I'm not looking at Francis' revisions until Alwen has commented on them. I'm not a tax or finance expert."

"I'll make sure his clerk knows that," he said.

"Politely. I just mended fences with Francis at Christmas and I don't want to have to go chasing him down again," she told him.

"I'll simply tell his clerk that you'd like to review his proposal with as much information as possible and will wait for Alwen's comments," Booker said.

"Thank you." Whenever she had questions about how to phrase something politically, she went to Booker. He usually knew how to get things done without ruffling too many feathers.

"Let me know if you do decide you need someone to intercept visitors, otherwise I'll be with the clerks."

"Thank you," she said again, turning to her work as he left her office.

She started with the mail, since that would take the least amount of time and would potentially add things to her to-do list, though she outsourced most of her letter writing to Booker. Sometimes she felt that Booker was as much a Wizengamot Member as she was - he did plenty of the work.

Most of the letters were requests for various issues to be raised in the Wizengamot. People had learned by now that she wouldn't promote or sponsor businesses or inventions and that she had no interest in building a financial empire. She knew some Wizengamot members played those games, but she had no time or inclination for it. She wasn't on the Wizengamot to enrich herself.

She read through each request, putting most of them aside for Booker to send the standard rejection letter that while she appreciated their concerns, this was not an issue she was willing to raise in the Wizengamot chambers. She set two aside for more research, as they were potentially concerning issues if what was being reported was accurate, but after ten years in politics she didn't trust random sources of information.

Maybe forty five minutes after she'd begun, when she was setting the mail in stacks and making notes for instructions for Booker, she heard a knock on her door. She went to the door and found Linette waiting. "Please come in and have a seat," Rachel said quickly, knowing that Linette was having a little more trouble getting around as she aged.

"Thank you," Linette said.

They settled into Rachel's main office across from Monty.

"Good of you to drop by, Linette," Monty said. They had been Wizengamot members together over thirty years ago now.

"Always a pleasure, Monty," she said. "I'm mostly just here to check on Rachel. How are you after that frightful experience?"

"I'm doing okay," Rachel said. That was mostly true. For the most part, she was trying not to think about it too much, especially while she was working.

"The Death Eaters attacked our home during the first war, you know," Linette said.

"I didn't know that," she said.

"Frightful thing," Monty said. "Wizengamot members being attacked left and right. They killed a fair number of us before we stopped meeting."

"Did they get through your wards?" Rachel asked.

"They did, but the MLE arrived in time, thankfully. It was just me and Franklin in the home. My children were already grown and gone. We flooed the MLE when we realized our wards were being attacked and then we hid deep in the house. We knew we were no match for Death Eaters. The anti-apparition wards were up, so we couldn't escape. If they couldn't find us, they would have used Fiendfyre to trap us inside and burn us alive." Linette shook her head. "Positively dreadful times. Did the MLE reach you in time, dear?"

Rachel slowly exhaled. "I had sort of taken care of the problem by the time the MLE arrived."

"Well, you are auror trained, thankfully. Anything that gives you an edge."

"I'm a little more than auror trained, Linette. I blasted Crouch Junior with lightning."

Linette huffed. "He deserved it."

"He did, indeed. I have been trying to get Rachel not to fret about it, but she believes she's a murderer," Monty said.

"Monty," Rachel admonished. She had not intended that information for public consumption.

"Just trying to find someone to talk you out of this foolishness and Linette has a good head on her shoulders," Monty said unrepentantly.

"Rachel," she said, setting her hand on forearm. Linette had the same tremors that Rachel did, but for entirely different reasons. She brewed the tremor steadying potion for Linette wherever she asked for it. "You defended yourself, your partner, and your home against a Death Eater. You should be proud of yourself."

"I didn't need to kill him." Why did no one understand that?

"Maybe not, but someone needed to, and like it or not, you were the one with the capability and the opportunity."

"He could have been sent to prison. We could have interrogated him and found out who he was working with and how he was taking down the wards," she pointed out.

"Water under the bridge, dear. What is done, is done. He tried to kill you and did not succeed. There is nothing gained by you punishing yourself for it," Linette said. "Spending time punishing yourself only means your attention is not where it should be."

Strangely enough, that much she could agree with. Her attention needed to be here on what she could do for people. Wallowing in guilt and self pity didn't help anyone. "Thank you. For being blunt."

"I'm no Mind Healer, but I've been around long enough to know how to give people a kick in the robes when they need it. What is next for us?" she asked.

"I'm almost done gathering votes for the House Elves proposal. I'm aiming for an early summer vote. Late May or early June, depending on how it goes. Still working on the proposal for criminals with mental health concerns. That one is going to be more complicated."

"I expect it will be. Use this to get votes," Linette said.

"I'm not going to threaten people," Rachel said, looking at Linette incredulously.

"No, not to threaten people. No one on the Wizengamot is going to believe that you can effectively threaten someone," Linette said. "But use this to remind them who you are. You are getting what you want in the right way, when you have the power to simply take what you want. They are being offered the privilege of voting with you."

"Somehow I don't think they see it that way," she said.

"No, but they should at least recognize who they are in the room with. People forget, a little bit. They got used to you. They look at you and they don't see the person who saved our nation."

"Too true," Monty said.

"I don't want people to see that when they look at me," Rachel protested.

Linette shook her head. "But they need to. They need to look at you and understand what you are trying to do. You are trying to lead us away from those dark times, one step at a time. The sooner they realize that, the better off we all are."

She was trying to do that. She was trying to get the country as far away from the politics that had allowed the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters to thrive in Britain. It was likely she was going to be doing that for the rest of her life, but she was willing to make that commitment if it meant no one else's childhood was marred by war. She couldn't fix the world. Most of the time she couldn't even fix magical Britain. But she could do her best to try.

"I can get the votes," Rachel said. "I wouldn't be pushing this if I couldn't get the votes."

"I suspect you might have an easier time of it now," Monty said. "Linette is right. People forget what you can do, but right now it is fresh on their minds. Not one of them can say they successfully fought off a Death Eater."

"Not much of a fight," she muttered.

"Is there anything I can do to assist with this?" Linette checked.

"Do you want to read over what I have on prison sentencing and mental health and see what you think? I'm not ready for it to go to the whole faction yet, but I could use someone else's eyes,"

"I'll take a look and let you know," she said.

"My clerk will get a copy to your clerk before the end of the week," Rachel said. A knock on her door roused her to her feet and she opened it to find Anyssa.

"Just checking in. Feel up to fighting some more Death Eaters?" Anyssa asked.

"I'm not sure there's any more to fight at the moment. We'll see," Rachel said, getting a soft snort from Linette.

"Alright," Anyssa said with a half smile. "It's nearly broom racing season. Are we on?"

"Next time we both have a Saturday off when it's not raining," Rachel agreed. "Given the weather and our schedules, that might not be until April."

"That works for me. Anything I should know?"

"No. Business as usual," she said.

Anyssa shook her head. "Only you can fight off one of the nation's most wanted criminals and come back to work two days later saying business as usual. Let me know about the broom race."

"I will," Rachel said, standing back for Linette to move out.

"You girls and your broom races. Must put the fear of death into your parents," Linette said as she looked at them.

"That's why we don't tell them about the broom races," Anyssa said with a smile.

Rachel smiled back. She told Theo where she was going, but Severus didn't need to know that she went broom racing.

"The youth today," Linette said, though she was smiling as she walked away.


"Patrick would like to see you," Liesel said, intercepting Rachel as she entered the Unspeakables' office area.

Rachel was not particularly surprised by this. It felt like everyone wanted to see her right now. She'd spent most of yesterday at the Wizengamot assuring her faction and assorted others that everything was fine. She somewhat hadn't expected the Unspeakables to know or care, but she knew that Patrick knew about what had happened.

"Does he want me at a particular time?" Rachel asked.

"Just knock on his office door. He's in there," Liesel said before returning to her own work.

Deciding to simply get it over with, Rachel walked down to Patrick's office and found him on the floor in the center of his office with some sort of diagram in chalk etched around him. He'd shoved his desk against the back wall to make space for it.

She knocked on his door frame so she didn't startle him. "What are you researching?" she asked when he looked up.

"Old ritual magic. We have plenty of old books and scrolls on it, but most of it we can't get to work," he said, returning to where he was comparing a diagram in an open book to the diagram on the floor.

"I've never seen magic performed like this. Is it from another country?" she asked, knowing that different regions had different ways of practicing magic.

"That's the thing that makes it so interesting," Patrick said, glancing up at her again. "This sort of magic is common to many regions, stretching back to ancient Egypt. But almost none of it works any more and no one knows why."

Rachel could feel the itch of knowledge and mystery prickling at the edge of her mind and reminded herself that she already had a number of things she was in the process of researching. Besides, she wasn't going to steal Patrick's project. She might just take a peek at what the Department Archives had to offer on ritual magic, just for an overview. She watched as Patrick made a correction on his diagram and then something came to mind. "I've heard of ritual magic being used before, but it wasn't like this at all. It was almost a potion."

"What's that?" he asked.

"When the Dark Lord was reborn into the body he used. I heard someone describe that as ritual magic, after they saw it in my memory."

Patrick shook his head. "Blood magic is a very different beast. What was done was a ritual of sorts, very old resurrection magic. If you find out where Tom Riddle learned it, I would be grateful. That sort of information shouldn't be passed around. If there are books out there, it would help to know what they are."

Rachel briefly pondered the Black family library. She'd poked her nose through it a few times while growing up and knew there were things there that Sirius shouldn't have, but she'd never really been inclined to read about illegal potions and torture curses. Now she wondered what else might be in there, and what might be in the Malfoy family library. She knew Draco had blocked off that room when he'd renovated Malfoy Manor. He said there were things in there he wasn't going to touch, but he couldn't get rid of them and didn't want to risk bringing them to Gringotts to store either.

"Did you need something, Rachel?" Patrick asked, seeming to recall that she was there after another minute or two of peering at his diagram.

"Liesel said you wanted to speak with me," she reminded him.

Patrick considered this for a moment before his expression brightened. "Ah, yes. Please come in, be careful not to step on anything, and close the door."

She did so, looking at the mess of books and scrolls and the pile of paperwork built up on his desk. She had no idea how he got anything done in such disorder. Rachel had a strong preference for keeping her spaces clean and tidy. It helped her think.

"How are you doing?" he asked, looking at her expectantly.

"I'm fine. It's not like I haven't been attacked by Death Eaters or killed someone before," she said, feeling like she could be blunt with Patrick.

He frowned. "There are not many who could meet Crouch Junior and come out of it alive."

"I tend to have a knack for that sort of thing." She paused for a moment, weighing bringing up the Morsius Pensieve.

"I'd like you to see the Department Mind Healer," Patrick said, apropos of nothing.

"What?" she asked, not quite ready for such an abrupt change of subject. "Why?"

"You just went through a harrowing experience," he began.

"It was hardly a harrowing experience. It took less than a minute," she objected.

"Does that excuse actually work on anyone? On your father or your partner? I would hope not. Certainly Amelia would see through it."

Rachel felt herself frown as she tried to regroup. She hadn't been expecting to be attacked like this, certainly not from Patrick. Slowly exhaling, she worked to put her thoughts in order. "I've been dealing with the Death Eaters since I was fourteen. I've fought them many times. What happened was a surprise, but it's nothing new to me."

"All the more reason to see the Mind Healer. And if you are fine, as you claim, then what is the harm? You check in with him, he states that you're in a sound frame of mind, and then you're done. You worked for the MLE. You know there's a mandatory check-in and evaluation after you kill someone, regardless of the circumstances. We have the same policy down here. Someone dies on a project, and everyone involved checks-in with the Mind Healer," Patrick said steadily.

She supposed she couldn't argue with that. She'd seen the MLE Mind Healer after she'd killed Bellatrix Lestrange. He had cleared her and everything had been fine. "Alright. When do you want me to do this?"

"You have an appointment tomorrow at ten in the morning with Mind Healer Gregory Wright. He knows to expect you."

"Alright." She didn't really appreciate this being sprung on her, but she would do it and get it over with.

"You can talk with them about anything, including your research. Greg is cleared on all of our projects," Patrick told her. "In the meantime, you're to stay out of the Department until he's cleared you."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. Maybe she'd ask him about her dilemma if he already knew about the Morsius Pensieve.

"Anything else for me?" he asked.

"Do you know how long it takes the committee to approve potions for testing?"

"Mirabel would have a better idea of where they're currently at, but expect a couple of months. I know that's not what any researcher wants to hear, but that's why most of us have multiple projects."

She nodded. "I have plenty of things to keep me occupied. I'd just like to know the results."

"I completely understand. Please let me know if you need anything," Patrick said.

Recognizing the dismissal, she nodded at him and left his office.

Since she couldn't go in the Department, and her potions research was currently at a standstill, she felt no guilt whatsoever about spending the morning in the Department Archives. She'd been looking forward to learning more about the Department and now seemed like the right time.

She found Cyril at his desk when she arrived, but there was no sign of Mirabel, which meant she was probably brewing or meeting with someone.

Cyril glanced up. "Want to brew with me later?"

"When?" she asked. She had learned to be cautious when brewing with Cyril. He tended to like volatile potions.

"Tomorrow morning," he said.

"I have a meeting I can't miss at ten. And I have to leave at noon. Can it fit in that time?"

"Come in at eight. We can be done in ninety minutes," he said, returning to his notes.

"I'll be there," Rachel said. She collected the notebook she had been using for her Department research and headed toward the Archives. At least her relationship with Cyril was never complicated. She appreciated that.


At just before ten in the morning on Thursday, Rachel found herself outside of Mind Healer Gregory Wright's office. She had stopped in the bathroom and changed out of her old brewing robes. Brewing with Cyril was never a certain prospect and there was no sense in ruining good clothes.

The door was open, so she knocked on the door frame.

A man who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties appeared a moment later. He was taller than Rachel - though everyone was - and he wore his greying brown hair in loose waves around his shoulders. "Ah, Miss Snow. I rather assumed you would be prompt."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. Although she didn't mind when people didn't use her titles, it was rare when someone didn't, and she wasn't sure what it meant that he hadn't. "That's an interesting assumption," she countered.

"With a little information, it's fairly easy to predict people. Unspeakables either tend to be promptly on time or extraordinarily late. Given that you know Patrick, I suspect you know which he is."

"I think I can guess," Rachel allowed. Sometimes Patrick barely seemed aware what day of the week it was, let alone what time it was. "How should I refer to you?"

"However you'd like. My official title is just like yours, Unspeakable Wright, though I know you have many titles besides that. Most people just call me Greg. What would you prefer I call you?" he asked.

"Just Rachel is fine."

"Most people find it more comfortable to come into my office for us to speak, but if there is somewhere else you'd like to go, I'm amenable to suggestions," Greg offered.

"Your office will work." She didn't want to be seen walking through the Ministry with a Mind Healer. The gossip about her was already bad enough.

He stood back to invite her inside. The office was cushy, with a number of different chairs and cushions, and one wall was dominated by bookshelves containing books and scrolls.

"I assume you're a researcher and not just a Mind Healer?" Rachel asked.

"Correct. As you can probably guess, most of my research is focused on the mind."

"Mind Magic?" she asked, glancing at him, but not sitting yet. She wanted to know where he was going to sit before she chose a chair.

"I am a practitioner of Mind Magic, as is every Unspeakable, but my research isn't focused there. My research is more focused on understanding the mind itself and how it forms and what it does. Would you like to sit?"

"Where are you going to sit?" she asked, deciding that was the simplest way to solve the issue.

"How about I sit here," Greg said, moving to an armchair near his desk.

Rachel took a seat across from him, well out of reach but still within conversation distance, and after a moment she came to the conclusion that she needed to ask. "What do you already know about me?"

"I've read your dossier, of course. I know you're intelligent, headstrong, stubborn, and somehow still an idealist despite your history," he said, maintaining an easy tone.

"Does my file really say that?" she asked not particularly liking that summation of her character flaws.

"I read between the lines," Greg said with a small smile. "There are some things you need to know up front."

"Alright," Rachel said when it was clear he was waiting for her.

"The only person I can talk to about what we discuss here is Patrick. The only thing I will discuss with him is if I'm concerned you're a danger to yourself or others. We can't let you loose in the Department if you're unstable; there are too many dangerous things in there," he told her.

"Good to know. I'm not unstable," she said.

"I'm glad to hear it," Greg said amiably. "I am briefed on your projects, though I'll admit I haven't yet read all of the research notes on the potions you're inventing. Potions brewing is not my speciality, so you may need to explain some of the nuances to me if that's something you wish to discuss."

"I'm not sure my potions brewing is the reason we're here," Rachel pointed out.

"That's true. I just want you to know that you can bring up your research or anything else and I will do my best to be informed. Do you want to talk about what happened on Sunday night?"

"There's not a lot to say. I would have rather captured Crouch Junior so that we could interrogate him," she said with a slight shrug. She was doing her best to simply accept that it had happened and there was no changing it now.

"That's very understandable. I don't get the sense from you that you're someone who relishes killing, even after your stint with the aurors," Greg said, nodding to himself.

"Anyone who relishes killing doesn't belong in the aurors." Rachel knew that Amelia, Rufus, and Gawain all felt the same way and did their best to prevent that from becoming a problem.

"Too true. Why did you kill Crouch Junior?"

Rachel found that she liked that he didn't make the assumption that she hadn't had a choice. Everyone else seemed to assume that, even people who knew her well. "I panicked. I saw a Death Eater. And I panicked and called on elemental magic, even though there was no need for it."

Greg nodded. "What happened in that moment of panic? Can you describe it?"

She tapped her fingers against her knee as she thought about it. "Dissociation was part of it. I felt very blank. Like I had been removed from my body. I felt cold. Frozen. And part of it was just this sensation that I was back in the war fighting Death Eaters."

"That's not really a sensation. Can you break it down more?" he prompted.

Wanting to ask what it even mattered, Rachel looked down. "I don't know how else to describe it. Fear. Inevitability. Knowing the people around me were dying and there was nothing I could do about it. Seeing bodies in a field and not knowing who was dead. Being in a circle of Death Eaters. It wasn't really any of those things specifically, it was kind of just a flash of it."

"Seeing a Death Eater triggered your memories of the war. As it would for anyone who had fought in the war or experienced violence at the hands of the Death Eaters."

Rachel nodded. "I wasn't really remembering. All of this took less than a minute. I dodged the Killing Curse. I followed the curse back to the Death Eater. And I brought my hands into the position to call lightning. I wasn't thinking. I was just reacting."

"That's very common following a traumatic trigger," Greg said.

"How do I keep myself from doing it again?" she asked, which was the real problem she needed to address.

"Well, the easy answer is not to encounter any more Death Eaters."

"I don't know that I'm in control of that. Death Eaters have a way of seeking me out," she pointed out.

"Entirely true. Does it help you to know that you have a consistent history of responding well against the Death Eaters? That you know you're capable of defending yourself?" he asked.

She slowly exhaled. "I know that I'm perfectly capable of taking on Death Eaters. But my body still remembers being young and…Well. You've read my file. You know about those encounters."

"Would it help to talk about them?" Greg offered.

"I don't think so. I've talked about them a lot. I've put them behind me."

"You've put them behind you, but encountering a Death Eater prompted you to kill without thinking. That's not the actions of someone who is in control of those memories," he said, still somehow keeping his tone neutral.

"Maybe not, but I don't see the good in digging around in those memories now. I think a good deal of the problem was that I was taken off guard. If I had known I was approaching a Death Eater, I think I would have been able to capture them instead of killing them." She'd given that a lot of thought over the past few days as well. It would have helped the situation a lot if Crouch Junior hadn't snuck up on her in the dark.

"There's an old saying in the Ministry to never startle an auror."

Rachel smiled. She'd heard that one too when she was working with the MLE. "It's for a good reason."

"It is. People who have been severely traumatized typically don't react well to being startled. Are you concerned how you might respond if you're startled in other situations? Greg asked.

"No. I've been startled plenty of times without hurting anyone. Though I wouldn't recommend someone startle me while wearing a Death Eater cloak."

"That would not be wise," he agreed. "Fortunately the Death Eater garb has become effectively taboo in our culture. Most people choose grey and brown winter cloaks over black these days."

Rachel was grateful for that as well. She hadn't owned a black cloak since finishing at Hogwarts.

"In your opinion, are you a danger to yourself or others?"

"No," she said, not having to think about it. "I'm pretty settled. I'm not sleeping, but I'm pretty settled these days."

"Hence the sleeping potions research?" he asked.

"That's just a project I've been working on for over ten years now. I've made plenty of advances in the field, but I'm not done yet."

Greg smiled. "I was curious at first about what caused you to wish to be an Unspeakable, but that is the quintessential Unspeakable mindset. Obsession is common here."

"I had noticed that," she agreed mildly. "Am I allowed back in the Department?"

"I don't see why not," he said after a moment. "I'd like to continue seeing you though."

"Why?" She'd assumed she'd be done after she'd been cleared to work.

"I think we have more things to discuss and I think it's wise to follow up with someone after any sort of extreme experience. Once a fortnight?" he offered.

Rachel considered that for a long moment before she nodded. "Alright. I can fit you in."

"I appreciate that," Greg said with a smile. "I know your schedule is very busy."

"It is. Speaking of which, anything else today?" she prompted.

"No. Go research," he said, waving her towards the door.

She left Greg's office feeling a little mixed. She didn't really appreciate being told she had to come back, but she didn't mind Greg all that much. He was direct, but he wasn't too pushy. She supposed she'd have to see how things went. For now, she was going back into the Department Archives while she still had time before she was expected in the Wizengamot Chambers.


Sirius' kitchen was crowded for Saturday dinner. He'd invited everyone over and most of them had been able to come on short notice. Sirius had taken the fact that Rachel had killed someone with equanimity, but was very concerned about the possibility that she'd been targeted by Death Eaters again. She'd done her best to reassure him that they didn't think it was likely Crouch Junior had been working with anyone, but she thought the idea that she was back under the Fidelius charm reassured him even more than that.

They'd had an early dinner and people were gathered in small groups as they caught up on what had been happening for each of them over the past month. Millie, Natalie, Astoria, and Hannah were talking about weddings, Astoria holding Cygnus while Natalie held Lisander half asleep on her lap. Sirius and Remus were in a conversation with Malcolm and Neville - Wizengamot business from the sounds of it, and Rachel should probably go over and weigh in, but didn't feel like getting up just yet. Sarah was talking to Ginny about flying and how fast she went at games and if it was scary. Sarah took after Neville - she was a little nervous on a broom.

Theo and Hermione were next to her, discussing their projects. Hermione had a paper in the works and wanted a full draft before she took up a new curse breaking challenge.

"Rachel?"

She turned and found Draco coming up next to her. "Need me for Wizengamot stuff?"

"No, actually, I was hoping you could do me a favor," he said, looking contemplative.

"What sort of favor?" she asked. She'd learned to always ask that question, regardless of who was asking for the favor.

"Would you talk with Scorpius about what happened with Crouch Junior? He's having a little trouble with it."

She would have preferred if Scorpius hadn't known about that. He was too young to be hearing that sort of thing. "What does he know?"

Draco sighed. "He overheard me telling Astoria about it, so much more than we would like him to know. He knows Crouch Junior attacked you at your home and that you killed him."

"Alright. What would you like me to tell him?" Rachel asked. She wasn't even sure what was age appropriate here. How was she supposed to tell her godson that she'd killed someone? She didn't want Scorpius to be afraid of her.

"I don't know. Mostly just answer his questions truthfully. At some point he's going to learn more about the war. I'd rather he hear it from us than anyone else."

Rachel nodded. It was better that they controlled that conversation because people who hadn't fought in the war said stupid things about it all the time. "I guess I'll do my best not to scare him. Is he scared of me?"

"No. He's not scared of you. He just has a very abstract concept of death and killing and is trying to make sense of it. He's been asking a lot of questions about death this week," Draco said.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. Where is he?" she asked, glancing around before seeing Scorpius sitting near Astoria.

"Let's move to the sitting room so we're not bothering people," Draco said.

Rachel rested her hand on Theo's forearm to catch his attention. "I'm going to go talk with Scorpius for a bit. We'll be in the sitting room."

"Okay. Did you need me?" he asked.

"I think we're alright." She'd fill him in on the details later.

Standing, she followed Draco and Scoprius out of the kitchen and they walked down to the sitting room. Draco pulled the door closed behind them so they wouldn't be disturbed.

Scorpius climbed up on the sofa and Rachel sat next to him, Draco taking a seat on Scorpius' other side.

"You had some questions you wanted to ask Rachel," Draco prompted when Scorpius merely fidgeted.

"I can ask anything?" Scorpius asked.

"You can ask me anything, and I'll do my best to answer truthfully," Rachel said, though truthfully might involve leaving some information out at this stage.

He sat for a moment more before looking at her. "How did you kill the Death Eater? Daddy didn't know."

"I called lightning and struck him with it," she said, hoping that didn't sound too graphic.

"Your godmother can do something very special, something very few people can do. She's an elemental witch," Draco said. "That means she can call on things like lightning or wind or move the earth."

"Can I?" Scorpius asked.

Draco smiled. "Probably not, but we won't know until you're much older. Rachel couldn't do it until she was in her mid-twenties."

"Old," he said with a nod. "I'm going to get my wand when I turn eleven. But Rachel doesn't use a wand."

"Rachel is so powerful that she doesn't need a wand," Draco said.

"Most of the time. I need it for a few things, like healing," Rachel corrected.

"Can I see your wand?" Scorpius asked.

Rachel pulled it out of her robe pocket and handed it over, watching as Scorpius made rudimentary spell motions with it.

"Did you have more questions for Rachel about what happened?" Draco asked after a few minutes.

"Was it scary?"

"Yes, it was scary," she admitted. "Theo and I were very scared."

"The Death Eaters are scary," he said solemnly.

"Yes, they are," Rachel agreed.

"Will a Death Eater come to our house?" Scorpius asked, looking up at Draco.

"Probably not. We have very good wards. Rachel killed that Death Eater so they couldn't come to anyone else's house," he told him.

"And if a Death Eater did come, the aurors would be right there to take care of them," Rachel added. "Your father would call the aurors and they'd be right there to stop the Death Eaters from hurting anyone."

"Did the aurors come to you?"

"Yes, they did." Way too late to be useful, but at least they'd shown up and taken the body.

Scorpius was running his fingers along the edge of Rachel's wand, a small frown on his face as he seemed to think. "Isn't killing people bad?"

"Yes, it is," Rachel said.

"It is," Draco agreed with a glance at her. "But sometimes when someone is about to kill you, the only way to stop them is to kill them first."

"I don't ever want to kill someone," Scorpius said firmly.

"Good. I don't ever want you to have to kill someone," she said.

"I don't want that either, but sometimes we're left without a choice," Draco added. "Rachel and I wouldn't be alive if we hadn't killed people."

Scorpius was very still, his gaze focused down. "I don't want anyone to die. Not ever."

"I know," Rachel said. "That would be really nice."

"It would," Draco said, looking a little uncertain. "But people do die. Sometimes because they're sick, or they're very old, or they have an accident, or very rarely, someone kills them. Everything that is alive eventually dies."

"Are you going to die?" Scorpius asked, looking at his father.

"One day, but hopefully not for a very long time. I'll always do my best to come home to you," Draco promised. He wound up with a lapful of his child a moment later and managed to pry Rachel's wand out of Scorpius' hand before he was jabbed with it.

Rachel accepted her wand and put it back in her pocket. She was feeling strangely guilty at the moment. The idea that she was a murderer kept lurking in the back of her mind.

After a long hug, Scoprius moved from Draco's lap to Rachel's.

She wrapped her arms around him and let him rest his head on her shoulder.

"Will you come flying with me?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, relieved that the conversation about Death Eaters and dying seemed to be over.

"When?" Scorpius pressed.

"When your father says it's okay." She didn't feel guilty about passing that ball to Draco.

"Maybe next Sunday after lunch?" Draco asked.

"I can do that," Rachel said.

"Can we play Quidditch?" Scorpius asked.

"Sure," Rachel said, though Quidditch with a four year old mostly involved flying close to the ground and gently tossing the Quaffle.

"I'm going to play in the League when I'm grown up," he told them.

Draco was somewhere between a smile and a wince. "You know, I've felt a lot more sympathy for Severus after having children."

Rachel smiled and hugged Scorpius close. "I know exactly what you mean."