Hello, Scribe.

Oh, Gwendolena! I haven't seen you around for awhile. How are you doing?

I hath seen better days, so I sought thee out to find some solace in the activities of my descendant.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, then. What's troubling you, though?

My perusal of TV Tropes led me to learn of the old song Y Gododdin. It was a glorious elegy for fine warriors. Even though they fought against my people, the Saxons, I could not but respect the virtues the bard attributed to them. All of them were great in their time, but by my own time a few centuries later they were all forgotten except for this song. What is the point of all of this, scribe? Why should my descendant struggle so when it all comes to nothing?

Did you ever make a funny face for a baby to make them laugh?

Yes, but—

Why, though? They won't remember you doing so.

…

Gwendolena? Why are you staring at me?

I am trying to discern whether thou are wise or bereft of thine senses.

My wife is, too. She says she's still researching that question.

They all had a great deal of time to kill after brushing their teeth and otherwise preparing for bed, so Harry, Hermione, and Neville met up in the common room to work on letters home. Writing several long letters by hand took hours, but they had just that and set to work. On the plus side, the common room was warm and cosy, with a roaring fireplace and a Wizarding Wireless player playing in the background that turned the cacophony of a dozen different quietly conducted conversations into a tolerable hum.

Neville looked over at them with a weird look on his face once, but when Harry asked him what was wrong, he insisted everything was fine, so Harry just chalked it up to general weirdness and ignored it.

Harry was nodding off by the time Alvina and Oz came to take them up to the Astronomy Tower. It was quite a hike up there, involving several sets of moving staircases and several more that didn't move. On the plus side, they learnt that one of the staircases did a circuit every ten minutes from the first floor to the fourth floor, back to the first floor, back to the fourth floor, to the second floor, and back to the first floor again. It saved a lot of climbing, but the downside was that the middle four-and-a-quarter inches of the fourth step on it was actually an illusion and your foot would go straight through.

The Wizarding World was a surprisingly dangerous place even when no one was actively trying to kill you, Harry decided. Fortunately, healing magic could work literal wonders.

Meanwhile, Hermione was staying as far to the edge of the staircase as possible. She was clearly having difficulty with the eccentric chaos of Hogwarts and Harry wished Luna were there to help put it into some sort of perspective. He might not be able to understand the perspective, but at least there would be a perspective.

Astronomy Class turned out to be reasonably interesting, but not enough to justify it keeping them up so late. By the time they returned to their dormitory, they all were all dead on their feet and collapsed immediately into bed. Fortunately, they had no classes early the next morning, so they were able to sleep in a bit and catch the tail end of breakfast time. That also allowed them to make a trip to the owlery to send off the letters they'd worked on the previous evening…then take a quick nap to make up for the rest of their lost sleep.

Afterward, they all did some last-minute reading for class and had a perfectly normal morning.

Sirius Black was having a perfectly normal morning when a heavily-laden owl arrived at the window of 12 Grimmauld Place. He gave it an owl treat for its letters, but it just sat there and stared at him till he gave it two more.

"Stupid inflation," he grumbled as he walked the letters back to the library where he and Hestia had been going over books of soul magic (him) and runic constructs that might James might have used on his portion of the mirrors (her).

She smiled when he walked into the room and he entirely forgot whatever had annoyed him. "Is there any interesting mail?" she asked.

"Yes, there are some letters from the children," he replied. "They each sent us one and enclosed another for the Grangers."

Hestia leapt to her feet. "I can't wait to see how the Sorting turned out, and it's probably a good idea not to randomly send the Grangers an owl in case they're around other muggles."

"I agree," Sirius said. "Would you like to read ours together?"

"That would be lovely," she said.

They sat down together on an old leather loveseat near the door and Hestia shot him such an adoring look that he just had to kiss her. That turned out to be an excellent idea, so he continued doing so for several minutes. She was still looking at him adoringly when they finished.

"You're going to be an amazing father," she told him.

"I'm not at all convinced of that," he replied. "I don't want Harry to think I'm ignoring him, either."

She chuckled. "Don't worry about Harry. I am positive he's going to love being a big brother. Hermione's probably going to be stressed about being a good big sister, but I think she'll do a great job, too."

"You're probably right…on both counts." Sirius paused. "I'll probably need to get her a book on infant care, too, just to calm her down. Is that Dr. Spock person still the cutting edge among muggle infant specialists?"

"I have no idea," Hestia said. "Let's ask the Grangers. They clearly did something right."

"Good idea," Sirius said.

"Oh, and maybe let me 'accidentally' buy a second copy of whatever book we decide on and give it to Hermione," Hestia said. "We don't want her parents to think we're trying to give her and Harry any ideas."

"Good point! So…um…we're really planning this, then?"

"Yes, unless…um…you don't want to." Hestia looked down at her feet.

"It's not that," Sirius said quickly. "I'm just nervous. I always thought I'd have James and Charlus here to help guide me through this whole process."

"I thought I'd have my parents, too," Hestia said, "but that's shot now. At least we have the Grangers and the Tonks."

"Yeah." He sighed. "We'll make it through somehow."

She patted his hand. "We will. Now, on a lighter note, I think we still have some letters to read."

"Oh, right!" Sirius grabbed the letters and opened up Harry's. "You distracted me, witch."

She gave him a poke in the side. "I didn't hear you complaining."

He stuck his tongue out at her and they began to read the letter. Gradually, the smiles faded from their faces, and no words were exchanged when Sirius put down Harry's letter and opened Hermione's for them to read.

"Well," Hestia said when they finished. "Well, then."

"Merlin!" Sirius said.

"Yeah, him," Hestia said.

They stared at the wall for a moment.

"We're going to need to be there when the Grangers read their letters, aren't we?" Sirius asked eventually.

"Oh, Morganna, yes," Hestia said. "Bring whisky."

"Good idea," Sirius replied.

Isaac Granger threw back a dram of Bunnahabhain 12 and shuddered as it burnt away the last remnants of the perfectly normal day he'd been having till Sirius and Hestia showed up with the childrens' letters. Miranda didn't quite get her whole glass down, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

"What the fuck, Sirius?" Isaac asked over the sound of Miranda coughing. "Our daughter and foster son probably saved a boy's life on their second day of classes, putting Harry in hospital in the process. And that's after he gaslit a bigot on the train and Hermione was assaulted by a prefect."

"Gaslit?" Sirius asked.

"Messed with the head of. It's not important now." Isaac made a dismissive waving motion with his free hand.

"That poor, sweet boy," Miranda said. "Neville could have died."

"I don't remember it being so dangerous when I was there," Hestia said. "Maybe I'm just forgetting things or downplaying them. I mean, there have always been dangerous occurrences, like that cursed ice that temporarily ate a professor and some students or that erlking that moved into the Forbidden Forest and nearly lured some Third Years to their deaths, but this is just the first couple of days."

Isaac and Miranda locked eyes for a moment, then both turned to Sirius.

He sighed. "Hestia, darling, that…didn't help."

The witch furrowed her brows. "Oh, sorry. It really didn't seem like such a big deal at the time. Does it help to know that our health care can easily fix horrific injuries and even a young wizard or witch is capable of altering what you would consider as the fundamental nature of reality to protect themselves?"

Wordlessly, Sirius poured another dram for Isaac and Miranda.

While they drank, Sirius said, "I'm going to try to manoeuvre myself onto the Hogwarts Board in the coming year and I'll push for some safety improvements at the school."

"Thank you," Miranda said, her voice still breathless from the alcohol.

"Yes, thank you," Isaac said. "That would make us feel a lot better."

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" Sirius asked. "I know this is probably a lot to take in if you've never attended Hogwarts yourself."

"What's the big deal about the Houses?" Miranda asked. "It sounds like more than just a random assignment."

"It is," Sirius said. "The Sorting Hat, which is a magical artefact of immense age and power, analyses your personality and puts you in a House according to that. Hufflepuff House, as Harry alluded to, doesn't have a great reputation, but that's not fair at all. Hestia is a perfect example of an extremely successful Hufflepuff."

"I don't know that I'm all that successful," Hestia said, blushing.

"You were Head Girl, you're a skilled witch, and you're one of the best people I know," Sirius said. "If that's not success, I don't care what is."

"I agree," Miranda said. "Still, do you think being in Hufflepuff House will hold them back?"

"I've seen them in action," Sirius said. "I don't think there's a force on Earth that's going to hold them back."

"I'd believe it," Isaac said. "We always knew our little girl was special, but befriending Harry has somehow pushed her further than we ever thought possible. So…um…how can we respond to them?"

"Oh." Sirius and Hestia exchanged a glance. "We'll…um…work on that."

The next day, Sirius and Hestia took a trip to Diagon Alley. They caught a few stares as they walked, making Hestia's cheeks heat up even in the light, cold rain falling around them. "How do you get used to this sort of attention, Sirius?" she asked as they walked.

He shrugged. "I was a dashing heir to one of the great Wizarding families. I don't remember not getting this sort of attention."

She pulled her capelet more tightly around her shoulders. "It doesn't bother you?"

"It does, a little, mostly because I think some of them still wonder if I'm guilty and got off like the Malfoys and Notts did."

"Ugh. I see what you mean."

"Nothing for it, though. If I could have stopped the Wizarding public from being idiots, I would have done so a long time ago."

She snorted with laughter. "Sirius!"

"What?" He smirked. "It's true."

"Fine, just say it more quietly, please. I don't want to get run out of Diagon Alley by an angry mob."

"Yeah." He sighed. "It just wouldn't be the same without James."

Hestia shot him a sidelong glance. "That is not what I meant."

"I know, but I was thinking that if I did get run out of Diagon Alley by an angry mob, James would be disappointed if he couldn't be involved in whatever I did to get the mob chasing me. He loved that sort of thing."

"I'm…not even sure if I should express condolences there. I don't want you or anyone else to be chased by an angry mob." She paused. "Oh, Merlin, is that the sort of thing Harry might incite?"

"I'm not sure," Sirius said, "so I put Ted on a retainer and gave him twenty-four-hour access to a sizeable bail fund in case Harry or any of his friends need it."

"That's lovely of you, dear," Hestia said. "Lovely and simultaneously somehow terrifying. Do you…um…think your children might need that sort of thing, too?"

Sirius shook his head. "Probably not. By myself, I was the kind of boy who might get thrown out of a store. Only James could come up with something magnificent enough to get us run out of the entire Alley."

"Well…that's good, I guess." Hestia sighed. "Poor Hermione."

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. "Poor Hermione is right. Maybe I'll add a little to that bail fund." He drew them up outside of the Eeylops Owl Emporium. "Ah! Here we are."

"I've never been in here," Hestia said as Sirius opened the door for her. "We couldn't afford an owl for me when the school had its own."

"I just never bothered," Sirius said as he followed her into the cramped, dingy interior of the shop. "I wasn't great at corresponding and I didn't have many people I wanted to hear from, anyway. I just used the school owls when I needed them or borrowed the Potters' owl when I was staying with them."

"Oh." She looked around at the dozens of owls in cages, all blinking slowly and staring back at her.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked.

"I just have no idea how to pick out an owl for the Grangers to use to contact Harry and Hermione," Hestia said. "How do—"

A bit of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked over just in time to see a magnificent, pure white snowy owl angle its talon just right to unlock its own cage. It then kicked the cage door open with a small clang and flew toward her. Sirius reached out a hand to protect her face, but all the owl did was land on it.

"Oh, my," Hestia said. "You're gorgeous."

The owl preened and made a little prek sound.

"It must be pretty intelligent to pick the lock on its cage," Sirius said. "Do you think it's smart enough to only approach the Grangers when they're alone?"

The owl swivelled its head in that uncanny way owls have and stared at Sirius.

"Why do I get the impression it's mad at me?" Sirius asked.

It smacked him in the side of his head with its wing.

"How was I supposed to know you were that smart?" Sirius asked

"Hoot," the owl said.

"Are you arguing with an owl?" Hestia asked.

Its head swivelled to look at her. "Hoot."

"That doesn't seem fair at all." She paused. "Am I arguing with an owl?"

"Hoot," it said.

"Well," Sirius said, "this turned out to be a quick trip."

"I…um…suppose so," Hestia said.

"Hoot," the owl added.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Sirius said.

"Hoot," the owl said, with an air of finality.

Harry and his classmates were all at Friday morning breakfast when the owl post arrived. A surprising number of the owls descended upon their end of the Hufflepuff table, all of which ended up consuming most of their bacon in exchange for their letters. One of the owls even had a small tophat somehow sitting on its head, which was one of the strangest things Harry had ever seen.

"I think this eagle owl is Sirius's," Hermione said as she took its proffered letter. Whose do you suppose that white snowy owl is, though?"

Harry gently took the letter from the bird's outstretched leg, unable to break eye contact with it as he did so. "It…um…I think it's your parents' new owl. The letter is from them."

"Oh, that's lovely!" Hermione said. "Now they won't have to bother Sirius whenever they want to write us." She paused. "Harry…what is it?"

"It's…" He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but was unable to take his eyes off of the owl. "She's technically theirs, but she's not, not really. She's mine."

"How could that be?" Hermione asked. "If Sirius bought her for my parents, then she—"

The owl's head swivelled uncannily to look at Hermione. "Hoot," she said firmly.

"She understands me?" Hermione asked.

"Hoot."

"And disagrees with me?"

Harry nodded. "I think she does. She'll still stay with the Grangers and ensure they can send us letters, won't you, girl?"

The owl made a soft prek sound and gently nibbled on one of Harry's fingers.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"What do you think they named her?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Her name is Hedwig."

"How do you know?"

"She seems like a Hedwig," Harry said. "You're Hedwig, aren't you, girl?"

"Hoot."

"There you have it," Harry said. "Hello, Hedwig."

Hermione nodded. "I can't argue with that. Hello, Hedwig. Thank you for helping my parents. You'll only visit them when they're alone, right?"

Hedwig hooted again.

"Right," Harry said, "she meant 'or with witches or wizards,' too."

"Oh, of course," Hermione said.

Hedwig hooted.

"Thank you," Hermione said.

Hedwig blinked at them and flew away, leaving a stunned-looking Kevin and Susan staring at them from across the table.

"What?" Harry asked, possibly a touch defensively.

"Is…um…that normal with owls?" Kevin asked.

"No," Susan said as she gave an owl payment for her own letter. "Not at all."

"That just means she's an extra-awesome owl," Harry said.

"You're…not wrong," Susan said. "I don't really know what else to say."

Hannah leaned over. "I'll bet she's an owl tied to your destiny somehow."

"That's not normal, either, is it?" Kevin asked.

"Nope," Hannah said, "but with these two, I think 'normal' is out the window."

"We're not that weird!" Harry said. "Nev, tell them…Nev, are you OK?"

The boy was staring at the letters in his hand. "I…I think I'd like to go back to the dormitory. I'll meet you in History of Magic Class."

"Do you want us to go with you?" Harry asked.

"No, no, you stay here," Neville said. "I need to sort this out on my own."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

He nodded. "Absolutely."

"OK," Harry said. "We'll be in the library if you need anything."

"Thank you." Neville got up to leave, then turned back around. "Seriously, thank you both for everything. You both mean the world to me, and not just for saving my life the other day."

"You're my godbrother," Harry said. "You mean the world to me, too."

"Same here," Hermione said seriously.

Neville nodded, shot them a small smile, and left.

"Think he's OK?" Harry asked Hermione.

She stared after Neville for a moment. "I'm not sure. Could you get me a roll, please?"

"Sure." Harry passed her a roll, which she cut in half, buttered, closed back up, wrapped in a napkin, and put into her purse.

"In case he's hungry later," she said.

"Good call," Harry said. Hannah and Kevin nodded approvingly.

Susan picked at her food for awhile before setting down her fork. "I think Neville had the right idea," she said. "I'm going to go back, too."

"Is everything alright?" Hannah asked. "I can go with you."

"Everything's fine," Susan said. "You…you should stay, please. I don't want to ruin anyone's breakfast."

"No worries," Kevin said. "I forgot my textbook back at the dormitory, so I'll walk her back."

"You don't have to," Susan said.

"I need my textbook, regardless," Kevin said. "You're not putting me out at all."

"If you're sure…"

"I really am," he said. "I'll meet the rest of you in the library in a bit."

"Susan?" Harry asked. "We'll stay here, but…you know we'd go with you if you asked, right?"

"I do," she said. "Just…not today."

Harry nodded to her and waved as she left. He didn't comment on the fact that Kevin's bag moved as if it were heavy enough to have his textbook in it, but he did smirk just a little as soon as her back was turned.

As soon as they left the Great Hall, Susan stopped and folded her arms across her chest. "I lied," she said. "I'm not going to the dormitory, so this is where we part. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell the others."

"That's fine," Kevin said. "I'm not going to the dormitory, either. My book's in my bag."

Her eyes narrowed. "I want to be alone right now."

"It sounded to me like you wanted to be with Hannah," Kevin replied, "but I'm guessing this is about that thing you don't want to talk to her about. If you want, go into one of the empty classrooms around here and I'll just sit outside the door for you."

"I don't need someone hovering around me," Susan said.

Kevin sighed. "That's not what I…I know you don't need me or anyone else around, but you seemed upset by whatever was in your letter and also upset that you couldn't talk to Hannah about it. Listen, if you really want to be alone, that's fine. Just tell me to go and I'll walk back to the dormitory, then walk back to the Great Hall. Nobody will know I didn't go get my book. What do you want?"

The girl looked around, her long, auburn hair swinging wildly as she did so, then dragged him up some stairs and into an abandoned classroom. "You asked me what I wanted," she said as soon as she'd slammed the door. "What I wanted from my aunt was a bit of reassurance that everything was going to be alright and that the madman who murdered my parents and Hannah's mother wasn't going to come back to life." As she spoke, she pulled the piece of parchment in question out of her bookbag. "What I got was a terse letter asking me not to discuss such things in the owl post and a request to ask Hermione to be more careful in her phrasing."

She wadded it up, threw it on the ground, and stamped on it. "My aunt is the best Auror on this whole damn island but she never stops. I didn't write her because she's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I wrote her because she's my parent, and all I got in response was a letter from the bloody Head of the DMLE!"

Susan looked back up at Kevin. "So, there you go. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is still around, he's going to kill my last close relative, he's going to kill Hannah's father, he's going to kill you, and he's probably going to kill your family, too. Do you see why I wanted to be alone now? Everything is terrible, we're all going to die, and now I've taken away your peace of mind, too, because you were too damn stupid to leave me alone!" She kicked the parchment at him.

Kevin grew up playing footie with his mates and easily stopped the parchment ball with his foot. "Fine. If she won't say it, I will: everything is going to be fine."

"No offence, but you don't know what the last war was like," Susan said. "It's not going to be fine."

"Yes, it is," Kevin responded firmly. "To borrow a phrase from Padma, we have Harry bloody Potter on our side, and we're going to train with him until we can deal with those arseholes who murdered your parents."

Susan paused and frowned. "I never would have expected you to buy into the Boy-Who-Lived stuff. Wasn't Hermione just telling us a few days ago that was all mooncalf dung?"

Kevin made a mental note to ask what a mooncalf was later. "I wasn't talking about the Boy-Who-Lived. I was talking about our classmate and his best friend, who get every spell in Charms and DADA first; who move like they were trained by my commando grandfather; and who watch everything around them like a hawk. We're going to learn how to fight like that and when that He-Who-Must-Be-An-Arsehole person shows up, we're going to execute him."

"But…we're just kids."

"We're just kids now. He hasn't come back yet, so what's the chance that he's going to come back tomorrow or even next year? We have time, and I propose we spend it getting ready to thrash that guy."

"No one ever stood up to him and lived," Susan said. "Trained Aurors couldn't do it."

"Yet either a one-year-old boy or his parents did," Kevin replied. "Parents who weren't that much older then than we are now."

"I suppose they did," Susan said. "Nobody knows how, but they must have done it all the same."

"Exactly. I'm not saying we have to figure out exactly what they did and do it, too, but I'm sure there are other options. My granddad would probably know a few of them." Kevin grinned.

"You keep mentioning your grandfather," Susan said. "Was he some sort of muggle warrior?"

"He was an elite soldier for the British government in a huge war back in the 1940s," Kevin said. "He lost part of his leg, though, and had to sit a lot of it out."

"That's awful," Susan said. "And muggle healers can't just regrow legs like magical healers can."

"You can?" Kevin blinked. "Of course you can. I can't tell my granddad, though, can I?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no. Besides, wouldn't all of his acquaintances want to know how he got his leg back? That would wreck the Statute of Secrecy."

"I suppose." He sighed. "He'd probably just be mad he didn't get his leg back in time to go fight more Germans, anyway. He doesn't mind it so much now."

"He would have wanted to go back to the war?" Susan asked.

"Of course," Kevin said. "His whole unit trained together and he didn't want to let them down. Besides, the Germans wanted to invade England and he wasn't having any of that."

"Huh." Susan furrowed her brows. "I've never heard of someone so bloodthirsty yet so obviously Hufflepuff."

Kevin grinned. "Yeah, Granddad is my hero."

She responded with a wry smile. "I think I see why you and Harry get on so well. I'm not sure I like it, but I understand it."

"That's fine," Kevin said. "I think this is the sort of conversation that my mother says is never really over, just put on a shelf for awhile."

"I suppose so. Just…try not to hurt anyone more than they're trying to hurt you, alright?"

"That's fair, at least till that Old Mouldy guy shows up."

"Deal." Susan unexpectedly held out her hand and Kevin shook it.

"Done. Shall we head down to the library now?" Kevin asked. "There's plenty of time left before our workout period."

"Sure, but would you mind if we actually did go to our dormitory first?" Susan said. "I need to freshen up."

"OK," Kevin said. "I wouldn't mind a trip to the loo, too."

She glared at him. "You're not supposed to point out when a lady is using 'freshen up' as a euphemism."

"Oh, sorry. So…I'll go powder my nose, then?"

"This is what I get for trying to have a conversation with a boy," Susan said. "Just don't mention it, alright?"

"Alright," Kevin said. "Oh, and before I forget…" He nudged the toe of his shoe under the wadded-up parchment, kicked it up, caught it, and passed it to the girl.

"Thank you, but…how did you do that?" she asked. "I've never seen anyone do that before."

"It's a skill you learn playing a popular muggle sport called football," he said.

As they walked out of the classroom, Susan said, "It's amazing how different the muggle world and Wizarding world have become in just a few centuries of separation. I can't even imagine how much we're missing."

"It's definitely a culture shock for me," Kevin said. "There's an awful lot to learn. I feel like—"

"Hello, ickle Firsties," Peeves said as he slid through the ceiling in front of them and solidified. "Want to play a game?"