CHAPTER 98: NIHIL SUPERNUM, PT 5 – AFTERMATHS

Hermione stood doubtfully before the gargoyles.

After catching on fire and blazing up in the mostly abandoned Great Hall (that had been a pretty wonderful experience – far better than the portkeys the Aurors had used to transport her from and to the Ministry), Professor McGonagall had gone to her office while Harry led her and his parents to a pleasant little apartment she hadn't seen before. There, they had had lunch (lunchtime was over, but Professor McGonagall had promised to have food sent over there anyway). Hermione had been bursting with questions, but with Harry's parents there, she didn't dare ask them. Dr. Verres-evans and Mrs. Evans-Verres were obviously trying to project confidence towards their son, but it was abundantly clear that they had been pretty shocked by the whole situation. So she and Harry had gently filled a little conversation with talk about phoenixes and their abilities (Harry's father had seemed rather interested in the idea of using phoenixes for space travel, and had made a number of interesting suggestions), and then left afterwards so the two adults could have their breakdown in peace.

Harry had proposed going to Professor Dumbledore with her, but then Vincent Crabbe had come and ordered Harry to "da boss". She wasn't invited and couldn't come along to say thank you (she'd have to find a way to do that afterwards, preferably in private as he might not want to be seen associating too much with a Muggleborn), so she'd gone to Dumbledore's office on her own.

But the gargoyles, she realized, had not been informed of the appointment, and she didn't know the password. Should she go to Professor McGonagall, or –

She looked at Xare, who cawed in agreement. You couldn't Apparate or Disapparate in Hogwarts, but phoenixes did not seem to be subject to such restrictions. She pictured the end of the spiraling stairway in her mind, right before the door, and grabbed the phoenix's claw. One burst of flame later, she stood at the place she had imagined, and knocked. The door instantly swung open.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was sitting behind his desk, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he said brightly. "Do come in. I was wondering whether you would use the door or simply come straight into the office."

"That wouldn't exactly be polite," Hermione answered, as she stepped inside and the door automatically closed behind her. She sat down into the deep, fluffy chair that was placed on the other side of the desk.

"Indeed it would not, but those of us who enjoy the company of a phoenix do not always observe such niceties. Now..." Some of his earlier seriousness returned. "Has Mr. Potter already informed you of the events which have occurred in the last two weeks?"

"No," she shook her head. "we were with his parents, you see, and..."

"They have quite enough to be going on with, yes. Well, then I suppose I shall give you the rough overview. Miss Granger, Lord Voldemort didn't really die when he attacked Mr. Potter some ten years ago. I knew he could not have – there were many reasons to believe that he had taken precautions against physical death, and is effectively immortal until we find out how to negate those precautions – but have kept it a secret to avoid widespread panic. I also hoped that the respite would be long enough to rebuild our world and increase our strengths before the next war comes, although I fear it may have come too soon. The man you know as Quirinius Quirrell was in fact the shade of Lord Voldemort, possessing the body of what I suspect was initially a willing victim. Since Harry realized the connection last week, Professor Quirrell has fled the school and gone on to terrorize Muggles, by sending an army of Inferi against a town in Scotland and by attacking all children and teachers in a primary school in Wales. Hundreds of Muggles have died in the last week, and almost a thousand have been severely wounded or permanently maimed, while I have honestly no clue as to what his purpose is. He was, of course, also behind the event that had you sent to Azkaban, which, given that he saved Mr. Malfoy's life, seems to have been solely aimed at you – or rather, at manipulating Harry by putting you in danger. Oh, and before I forget, there is a prophecy that identifies Harry as Voldemort's destined enemy, who will grow up to be his equal, and will have power he knows not."

She blinked. "That's rather a lot to take in at once."

"I do apologize for burdening you with this, Miss Granger. However, whether you wish it or not, you are involved now. Lord Voldemort has chosen to use you twice. What is more, as the second person in our country with a phoenix – and, indeed, the first without a tainted history – people will look to you for protection."

It was a little too much. War? Hundreds of deaths? And Professor Quirrell being Voldemort? She knew all about the last war, of course. Everyone did. The idea of all that starting over was terrifying. And Dumbledore expected her to take a lead in the fight?

But she could see, in her mind's eye, a town full of Muggles getting slaughtered by Inferi. She could see the faces of her Housemates, who almost never spoke of their family because there was always someone in earshot who'd lost someone dear to them. And she could imagine Hannah, and Parvati, and Hufflepuff Mike and even some people she only knew by face, and the idea of any of them getting hurt was just too terrible and of course she'd do what she could to stop that, but what could she do... Xare nuzzled her face affectionately.

No savior hath the savior...

"I'm only twelve," she whispered desperately.

"And yet you are a hero, Miss Granger," he said with a sad smile. "And always will be."

"What would you have me do?"

"Nothing, for now. I merely wished you to be prepared for the inevitable. Ultimately, this battle truly is Harry's, for he is Voldemort's destined enemy. But he could never be everywhere at once, and other heroes will be needed. As for the present, there are different concerns. I believe Harry's book list for you contained an introductory text on Occlumency?"

"Yes," she answered. This seemed like safer ground. "But I didn't get very far. These exercises seem really hard."

"I would not expect you to succeed them so quickly. In fact, you are too young. Occlumency lessons are generally not attempted before the age of fifteen at least. But in your case, it is dangerous that you cannot hide your thoughts. Therefore, we should perhaps arrange something after all."

"But if I can't learn it yet..."

"I sincerely doubt that you will be able to succeed a complete block, at your age. But with enough training, you may be able to detect intrusion, and that will already be helpful. The question is how to train you. We went to quite some lengths not to spread any knowledge of the secret revealed in today's proceedings beyond those who can use it to cast the spell. Unfortunately, anyone teaching you Legilimency would certainly learn of all you least wish to be known –"

That didn't sound particularly pleasant, even if she wasn't trying to hide anything important.

"– so whichever instructor we find for you must agree to be Obliviated afterwards." He looked briefly tired. "But that would not suffice, would it?"

Her thoughts flashed back to the panicked look on the face of the Obliviated Auror, Shacklebolt, when he failed to recast his Patronus the first time.

"How about someone who was at the trial?" she suggested. "They couldn't be harmed further."

The Headmaster shook his head. "I would gladly teach you myself, Miss Granger, but that must not be. Remember that two pieces of information were removed by the Aurors after the trial. One, the secret that will curse you to be forever unable to cast a Patronus Charm. The other, the way of casting the True Patronus Charm. If I should learn the former, then the latter will be unlocked, and that a simple half-hour Obliviation would not remove. Taking into account that the agreement we made crucially relies on everyone accepting the Obliviation, Lucius Malfoy would not be pleased if he learned that I had been told the secret afterwards." He sighed. "A flaw which I really should have considered at the time."

"I see." She thought about it. "So it would need to be someone who wasn't at the trial, and who already cannot cast the Patronus Charm."

"Would that be enough?" He asked.

"Yes, I think so. If he or she gets Obliviated afterwards, at least."

The Headmaster nodded. "Very well, I shall arrange that." He extended a hand to Xare, who, after a questioning look at her, hopped gently onto his hand. "Now. About your family... Harry has insisted that his parents stay here, for their protection. I did not believe it necessary at first, but on closer consideration, he might well be right. However, I am quite certain that yours are not in a similar danger."

Danger? "Would V– You-Know-Who attack them?"

"No, I don't think so. He stands little to gain from attacking them – his interest seems to be focused on Harry, and Harry, I believe, would not be severely affected by your parents' deaths. You have been targeted, but only for Harry's sake. I will ward your parents, of course, in as unobtrusive a way as possible. But I don't think it would be in their best interests to uproot their lives."

A cold hand of fear clasped around her heart as the Headmaster spoke so calmly of her parents being murdered. She took a deep breath, then another, forcing herself to consider his words rather than protesting immediately. It hadn't even occurred to her that her parents might be in danger. Even if it had, she wouldn't have considered asking for them to stay here before the Headmaster brought it up. If anything, she'd try to persuade them to leave the country, but they would lose all their clients if they just left on short notice, so it was very unlikely that she could convince them that they were in enough danger to do that – especially since, according to the Headmaster, they weren't.

She swallowed. "What kinds of wards?"

"The strongest I can provide for them. I shall ward them myself, before the day is through. They will have emergency portkeys and methods to give warning to either me or the Auror office – that much I can do without giving them undue alarm, as a safety measure after the attacks in Easingwold – and numerous invisible wards and detection of any magic in their vicinity. I promise that they will be as safe as I can make them."

"All right then," Hermione sighed. "Can I see them?"

Professor Dumbledore looked uncomfortable. "You can, certainly... but whether it's a good idea –"

"What do you mean?"

The old wizard gently rubbed the firebird's beak. "With a phoenix, few places in the world are closed to you, so yes, you are able to visit your parents if you so wished. However, I do urge you to be cautious. While they are not likely targets, you are, and therefore in leaving the protection of the Hogwarts wards to visit them, you might inadvertently endanger them. What is more, you are in the unenviable position of not being able to be honest with your parents without giving them great alarm. Can you envision how they would respond if they should learn of the dangers you have faced, and may still be facing?"

"They'd be terrified," she breathed. They'd want to take her away from Hogwarts, from magic. If they learned the full story, they definitely wouldn't want her anywhere near Harry. They might well try pulling her out of school against her will. She could stop that by filing for independence with the Ministry of Magic, but she couldn't do that without effectively losing her parents.

"I see you comprehend the danger," the Headmaster spoke after a pause. "Miss Granger, this decision is truly yours. Your parents have been told that you are sick with Spattergroit – a highly infectious disease, which keeps them from visiting you, and which would have explained your death if your sentence had ended differently. You might choose to continue the deception, or to reveal the lie to them; that decision is entirely between you and your parents. However, whichever path you follow, you must not act rashly. Weigh your options before you take a step."

"I will." Maybe she could find someone to talk to about this. Were there other Muggleborns who'd been in situations like this? There had to be, surely, there'd been a war only ten years ago and Muggleborns had been targets. But none of those were people she knew, or whom she could easily approach with questions.

For the first time ever, she really wished that she had a magical relative, an adult. Someone she could talk to about this sort of thing, who would understand what had happened and who knew the Muggle world and could give her advice. Hell, she'd even be happy with just someone she could talk to like she talked with her parents but who would be familiar with magic and all around it, who would know what Azkaban was and what a phoenix meant, someone who understood the world she lived in and wouldn't go mad with fear if she told them what had happened to her. Professor McGonagall was close, but she had many children to be responsible for, and it wasn't quite the same.

"What are you thinking of?" The Headmaster asked gently.

"I was wondering..." She looked at the ancient man, who had known her grandmother, spent months with her. "You were a friend of Elizabeth Beckett, weren't you?"

"Yes," he said sadly. "I do apologize for not telling you about her, but I felt it was not my place."

"Do you know whether I have other magical relatives?"

"None in Britain. John and Elizabeth were estranged from the rest of their family. There might be some distant relatives in America, but none that I would know how to find."

She nodded, only slightly disappointed. It had been a long shot anyway. "Do you have any pictures of my grandmother?"

He hesitated, but only briefly. Then he stood up. "Come."

Draco's face did not betray anything when Harry stepped into the otherwise abandoned classroom Crabbe had led him to. He could not guess what his friend was thinking. But he knew what he should say.

"Thank you."

Draco looked at him coldly.

"Thank you," Harry repeated. "You might well have saved my life as well as Hermione's today."

"I didn't do it for you," Draco said with a slight sneer to his voice. "I did it for Granger."

Now that was something you wouldn't expect to hear every day from that particular direction.

I'm sorry, Harry did not say, because he wasn't, and still he had to stop himself from blurting it out. Today, Draco Malfoy had stood up against his father to defend a Muggleborn, which would probably never have happened without Harry's manipulation, and that was a wonderful event that might well reshape the future political landscape of magical Britain, but Harry could only imagine what it might have cost the boy.

"You swore enmity on my house," Draco said, his voice controlled.

Oh. Right. He had totally forgotten about that.

"Draco, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it! It was just... I was trying to find anything to say that would stop your father from sending Hermione to Azkaban."

"And you honestly thought that would work?"

"Your father seemed scared of me. It was the only thing I could think of then. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking properly."

There was a brief look of consternation on Draco's face, as though he was remembering something relevant. But then his features turned cool again.

"My father asked me to suggest that we dismiss the enmity between our Houses. Do you accept?"

"Of course."

"Very well. I shall let him know."

"Draco..."

"I won't consider you my enemy anymore. But let's get one more part straight." Draco was staring at him now, a fierce light in his eyes. "You wronged me. And you owe me."

"Acknowledged," Harry said quietly. "Conditional on the rest of it, of course."

Draco nodded. Then his face relaxed.

"Speaking of debts," he said in an artificially light tone. "Have you determined whether Dumbledore deserves your enmity yet?"

"Actually," Harry answered, "I wanted to talk to you about that."

"You're not going to chicken out on me, are you?"

"No. The thing is... I have made progress. I asked him about the things you told me – well, not about his sister, that would just be too personal, but the other stuff – and he had some surprisingly good explanations..."

"Good explanations?" Draco repeated incredulously. The anger seeped from his voice.

"I'm not saying – look. About the Grindelwald thing..." he paused a moment, giving Draco time to calm down.

Dumbledore had told him that Grindelwald had a dread device that made him truly invincible – at least while his Muggle pawns were providing him with blood sacrifices. Without those sacrifices, his defenses had still been impenetrable even by the most powerful wizard alive.

And Harry had a pretty good idea what that dread device was.

He'd felt it, when he held Dumbledore's wand. The sheer power running through his fingers. Another man's wand was supposed to be less powerful than your own, but this one felt somehow right, even as there was the sense that it was not his...

The feeling reminded him a lot of his cloak.

He had not recognized the dark wood, which meant that it could well be elder, a very unusual material for wands. And if Dumbledore possessed the elder wand, the Deathly Hallow that was supposed to increase its wielder's spell power by a thousandfold, making him or her truly undefeatable, there was one obvious place where he might have got it. Grindelwald could not be defeated with spells alone. His shields unbreakable, his attacks immeasurably powerful. But while Dumbledore could dodge Grindelwald's spells, and keep attacking to drain his magical power, eventually exhaustion would set in. It was, quite possibly, the only flaw of the unbeatable wand.

And Dumbledore had asked him not to speak of it, for none must suspect that he possessed the device in question. And that made sense too, as there were probably a lot of wizards who would happily murder him in his sleep for it, or else attempt to steal it. And it would be dangerous, for such a person to hold such a wand. Much safer to keep it in Dumbledore's hands who was, at least, not trying to use it against other people.

"He gave me an explanation, but he made me swear not to tell anyone."

"Oh, come on."

"I wasn't sure whether to believe him at first, but I have seen proof since. On my art as a rationalist, I promise that by my best judgment, I think he was telling the truth: he had a very good reason to postpone his attack, he really did fight until Grindelwald fell over in exhaustion, and he also has a good reason not to speak of it."

Draco frowned, but he seemed to consider the words at their value, at least.

"I'm not sure what to think of that."

"And you shouldn't be," Harry shrugged. "I can promise you that I judged as best as I could, but it's perfectly reasonable to want to see the evidence with your own eyes rather than just taking my word for it. That's what scientists do. But at least this should tell you that an alternative explanation exists, and that it can seem convincing enough to at least mild scrutiny by a rational person."

Draco nodded, his mouth a thin line. "And the rest of it?"

Careful now. If it was difficult for Harry to objectively assess the morality of torturing an innocent to death for cool utilitarian considerations, it would be a lot harder for Draco, whose mother had been said innocent.

"Did your father ever tell you about the circumstances of... your mother's death? I mean, did he tell you why Dumbledore said he did that?"

"Dumbledore just told him it was a warning." Draco's voice broke. "A warning! What kind of warning is that?"

"But your father never told you what the warning was for?"

"What does it matter? He just wanted to hurt father! He's evil!" The last words came out as a scream.

"People don't usually do evil just for the sake of evil, Draco. And Dumbledore has a phoenix, he can't do evil without at least believing that it serves a noble purpose, don't you see? If he just... If he killed your mother for revenge on your father or some other petty reason, Fawkes would leave him! So if he really did it, he has to have had a reason, that was enough that he could at least convince himself that it was worth it."

Draco was breathing heavily. "Like. What?" He glared at Harry. "How can you even consider that there is a good reason for that?"

"Draco..." Harry looked him in the eyes. "How many innocents has your father tortured to death, or delivered into Voldemort's hands for that purpose?"

Draco gasped and stepped back, as though hit by a physical blow. "That is... I don't... That was not the same thing at all and you know it!"

"Isn't it?" Harry spread his hands helplessly. "Consider the reverse situation. Suppose Dumbledore didn't just take your mother, but he burned other relatives of Death Eaters as well, and his friends helped him do that... And then suppose your father got the wife of one of those friends in his hands..."

"Stop." Draco had turned his face away. There was a sob in his voice.

Harry fell silent. He wasn't mad or cruel enough to push his friend. What he'd just done to him was bad enough.

It was a while before Draco spoke again.

"That does sound an awful lot like revenge."

Harry shook his head. "It was a standoff. You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters had no qualm hurting the families of those who resisted them, because they believed Dumbledore would never retaliate in kind."

Draco just stood there, his back still turned to Harry.

"I don't know whether he did it," Harry said eventually. It was a risk, perhaps, to raise this possibility, for if Lord Malfoy would come to believe that Dumbledore had lied it would endanger light-side families again. But surely Voldemort would have thought of this too, and he had accepted the standoff. "He had every motive to take the credit if someone else did it. Or maybe he killed her, but he didn't burn her, and he just faked the evidence."

Draco shook his head. "No."

After a while, he turned around. His face looked a bit red, but otherwise coolly controlled.

"He still owes us a debt, no matter how good his reasons might have been. So, are you taking him as your enemy or not?"

"I still don't know whether he did it, Draco," Harry pointed out. "I know why he did it, if he did it. But –" (as the boy started looking angry again) "I have taken first steps towards taking him as my enemy. I don't accept him as my mentor, or follow his little plans. And I don't trust his judgment. Frankly, I was rather peeved when he stopped me from buying Hermione free, and that's just one example. Is that enough, for now?"

Draco just looked at him.

"I don't think I am ready to deliberately go and destabilize him, even if I could," Harry clarified. Draco seemed to be demanding more, but that, Harry was not quite ready to give yet. "I don't like what your father is doing very much either, and whatever else, Dumbledore does put a check on him. Also, he is legally my guardian and he could make my life really difficult, if he wanted to." That, and I may need his help to deal with the Voldemort problem. I don't think Lucius Malfoy would be as co-operative, even if I did help him get rid of Dumbledore."

"Go," Draco said softly.

"Draco –"

"Just go."

He went.

A deep silence clung to this room, a stark contrast to the office below. A crystal globe hung on the ceiling, casting a silver light over the black walls and floor. And below that, rows upon rows of pedestals with photos, broken wands and other objects. Her breath stopped in her throat as her mind refused to process what she was seeing.

"What is this place?" she whispered, although most of her already knew.

"Think of it as a graveyard," the Headmaster answered.

No, she thought, not a graveyard. This was far more than that, for, she suspected, he had known every single one of the people here. Godric Gryffindor might have had a room like this, for the many friends he had lost in battle. But she had never thought of Albus Dumbledore in that way, and it almost broke her heart to see the kind old hero here among the keepsakes of the fallen. He had done so much, and lost so many.

"Come." He strode through the pedestals, and with only a little hesitation she followed him, until they reached –

She blinked. Upon the pedestal where he stopped was a picture of herself, not moving, because it was the one she recognized as her last school photo before Hogwarts. Beside the photo lay her wand, unbroken. He took it, and silently handed it to her.

"I suppose this pedestal will not be needed anymore," he said matter-of-factly, taking the picture and putting it somewhere into a pocket of his robes. Then he tapped the pedestal with his wand and it sunk down into the ground. He stepped to the side, leading her to the pedestal next to this one, which bore a single photo and a cylinder.

"This," he said, "is your grandmother."

The woman in the picture was about thirty years old. Short of stature, she thought (although it was hard to tell in a photo) and a bit squatty, with black hair hanging loosely down her back. She seemed kind, even though there was a strong, unyielding expression in those dark-brown eyes.

There was no wand on the pedestal, not even a broken one. Most other pedestals did hold a wand, and Dumbledore had been with her when she died, hadn't he? That was what he had told her before, when speaking of his battle against Grindelwald: fewer remember Elizabeth Beckett who died opening the way so I could pass through. Had another relative inherited it? Or...

"What happened to her wand?" she asked. Her voice came out sounding almost normal.

"It was shattered," Dumbledore says simply.

But he doesn't say when, she noted. Had Elizabeth Beckett lost her wand in the battle where her brother died, and later fought with his wand in place of her own? She almost asked whether he would consider himself a friend of the family, but she knew better than to do that. She was not an Occlumens yet, and if the Headmaster was the one who had helped Harry help her, it would be better for her not to know.

She looked at the picture again, wondering about the woman she had never known, but with whom she still felt a connection. What had she been like? Gryffindor, Head Girl, brilliant scholar and extremely brave. But those were just words, it still didn't let her know her.

"Come," the Headmaster said gently. "It does not do to dwell on the past. We had better live in the present, and I believe you have more than enough present concerns."

That was certainly true. She nodded, and allowed him to steer her away, down the stairs, back to office where Xare waited for her on Fawkes's golden podium.

Draco was lying in his bed, silent tears streaming over his face.

It wasn't fair.

Why did Harry keep doing this? Wasn't it enough that he'd taken Draco's belief in blood purity, did he have to whittle away at his grasp of good and evil too?

The painful thing, the horrible thing was that a part of him realized that the Boy-Who-Lived was right. He had always envisioned Dumbledore's acts against his mother as senseless cruelty, but of course they weren't just that; it had been a war, both sides fighting for what they believed in. If he was completely honest with himself, Dumbledore hadn't done any evils, as far as he knew, that father would not have done in his place. Even killing his sister – if a Squib girl was born in the Malfoy family, it was not at all inconceivable that she would have an accident before anyone ever found out about it. And the thing with Grindelwald... he didn't think father could have pulled that one off, but if he could get away with it, he would have, and Harry had seemed quite certain that Dumbledore hadn't even done that anyway.

And yet of course, obviously Dumbledore was evil. But if you started thinking like that, you had to wonder about Lucius Malfoy too...

Draco sobbed, and cursed the day in Diagon Alley when he first met Harry Potter.

"Mum. Dad. What are your plans?"

It hadn't been long after his meeting with Draco that Harry had realized that there was a very important thing he had forgotten to discuss. Excitement of the day notwithstanding, tomorrow classes in Oxford would start again and Professor Verres-Evans might be tempted to return to work. So Harry had quickly aborted his stride towards the Ravenclaw common room, and turned into the corridor that led to his parents' apartment instead.

"We're staying here," mother answered.

"Oh, that's great," Harry said with a surge of relief. "You believe in the danger now, then?"

"Your Headmaster was here just a few minutes ago," father said. "Apparently he's already arranged for me to have had a severe 'accident' while on holiday in Canada. I am now apparently staying in a private clinic there, and it will expectedly take at least until the end of the semester before I am fully recovered." He shrugged. "It would have been more polite if he'd asked us first whether we agreed with the arrangement, but it seems that I'm now on sick leave for the rest of the school year, and I don't mind that. Today's events have made me realize that, well, you appear to be caught up in something larger than I would have expected, and whether your mother and I are in danger or not, we'd both prefer to be here to support you when necessary."

"Thanks, Dad," Harry sad. "And Mum. It does mean a lot to me." Knowing that his parents were as safe as Dumbledore could make them was helpful, although not quite enough to not worry about their safety at all. But if Voldemort could break into the school, then he could also hurt Hermione, or Draco, or any of his other friends, so at least he didn't need to be more worried for his parents than for all the other people he cared about.

"So I guess you'll be having a lot of time for research this semester, Dad? With no teaching duties to distract you?"

"No, actually," Professor Verres-Evans said. "Your Headmaster has offered your mother and me both positions as guest lecturers."

"What? What will you be teaching?"

"Muggle Studies," mother said. "I'll be telling third-years about daily life in Oxford and I'll give an introduction to law to the fourth-year students. Your father will teach some basic ideas of science to the sixth-years."

"Indeed," father added. "Apparently Professor McGonagall was intrigued with some of the ideas you told her about, even if she considered them quite absurd." He showed a brief smile. "I suppose I am going to have an interesting time with this."

"Oh yes." Harry answered, a gleam in his eyes as he imagined the primarily pureblood students getting introduced to ideas such as a court system where innocent until proven guilty applied, or learning about questioning your beliefs and the experimental method. He was pretty sure the Headmaster was planning to shake the students up a little, at least where his mother was concerned. Perhaps Dumbledore had only intended for his father to explain the results of science, but Harry knew him too well to doubt the lesson plan. "You two are going to be awesome."

In his office, the Headmaster of Hogwarts spun his Time-Turner four times, and set off to find Padma Patil. If anyone would benefit from being told how to send a Patronus to someone else, and at what time doing so might just be a good idea, the girl whom Harry Potter had named his heir was probably it.

When Hermione entered the Great Hall for the after-holiday feast, Xare riding on her shoulder, there was a sudden hush.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

And then the applause started.

It started at the Gryffindor table, of course, but then the others joined in. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff... Even a fair few Slytherins were clapping, which surprised her briefly until she realized that of course several of the children in that House had relatives in Azkaban.

She arrived at the Ravenclaw table and sat down next to Su. Harry, who had apparently walked in right after her, sank down on her other side.

"I'm glad you're back," Padma said from where she was sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"So am I," she said. And she was, even as she suppressed a brief note of sadness because nothing ever would be the same again. She had gone to Azkaban and returned with a phoenix. There was a war going on, and sooner or later she might be called upon to protect her friends as well as strangers. The days of plotting battle tactics against Harry and Draco, caring about house points and telling everyone that Harry was not her boyfriend were over. But still, it was good to be back home at Hogwarts.

Harry got the Slytherin delivery after dinner, and read it later inside his trunk.

I did it.

-LL