Reading Time: 113 Minutes

Title: In The Aftermath of War
Author: Meri
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Drama, Family, First Time, Future Fic / Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slash
Relationship(s): Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, Pre-Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Content Rating: R
Warnings: *No Mandatory Warnings Apply, Canon-level Violence, discussions of child abuse, PTSD
Author Note: Note 1: As always, I believe that canon is a suggestion, not a rule. Note 2: This story starts at the very end of Deathly Hallows, it veers off after that. Because that epilogue served no one and nothing.
Beta: Many thanks to my beta, Serpent’s Garden, for all their hard work on the story.
Word Count: 88,000
Summary: In the aftermath of a war that took years to ignite and ended in a bloody battle with deep losses on both sides, the consequences stretched far beyond the last battle. Headmistress McGonagall is determined to see her students work through what happened to them and hopefully find a measure of peace with it. Narcissa Malfoy’s one goal for the war was to make sure her son survived it. Now that she has accomplished that, her next goal is to make sure her society survives as well — that includes everyone in it.

Now that it was all over, Harry Potter wanted all the information that had been kept from him and to make some sense of his life. Hermione Granger wanted nothing more than for the nightmares to stop long enough to get a whole night’s sleep. Theodore Nott wanted the same thing. So did Draco Malfoy.
Artist: Many thanks to my artist, Spuddoc, for all their hard work on the artwork for the story.

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Chapter 1

Hogwarts

Two Weeks After the Battle of Hogwarts

The fire in Minerva McGonagall’s office burned cheerily, and she scowled at it. Despite it being mid-May, she could not dispel the chill that seemed to permeate the stone walls. The portraits all slept, except Dumbledore, whose frame was empty, and Severus’ had not shown up yet. Well, it had only been two weeks. And truthfully, Minerva had no time to worry about that.

She sat facing the room with plans for the restoration of the school, lists of the dead, and funerals to attend, as well as a stack of unopened mail on her desk. The tea she had asked for was cold and untouched. Her hands trembled as she reached for the communication mirror and tapped it with her wand.

“Douglas Cameron,” she said into it. A heartbeat later, a familiar face appeared. Douglas was her first cousin on her father Robert’s side and a couple of years younger than she was. He was a Muggleborn. His mother, Kathleen, was a Muggle and Robert’s sister. Minerva’s father had been a Muggleborn and had married a titled Pureblood, Isabell Ross.

“Minerva,” Douglas said, his voice concerned. “I’m delighted to see you. I have been hoping you’d get in touch. We didn’t know what to think when we didn’t hear from you.”

“I’m here,” she said, and sighed. “It has not been easy. I have only just gotten back to the school. It has been a very long couple of weeks.”

Douglas’s expression was worried. “Tell me what happened to you?”

Minerva let out a long sigh and told him about the final battle, as much of it as she could. She was still haunted by everything that happened. Although she left out her own injuries, which had been physically healed, but still haunted her. She couldn’t bring herself to think about them yet.

She heard the screams in her nightmares, the sounds of the school’s walls collapsing around them. The death toll had been unimaginably high, and reading down the lists of the dead and the injured was enough to put tears in her eyes. Few of the staff or students who remained had escaped injury.

Douglas listened without a word or comment, which she appreciated because had he spoken, she would not have been able to get the magnitude of that horror out of her mouth.

“At this point, I fear for the children who are dealing with the aftermath,” Minerva ended with.

“You haven’t mentioned yourself,” Douglas said. “Can you sleep at all? Are you having nightmares?”

She just stared at him for a moment. “I do sleep. At least somewhat. But I have nightmares every night. I see the faces of those we lost, and the ones we didn’t lose, but are likely to be so traumatized that they will need help just to learn to function again.”

“That’s PTSD –”

“What is that?” Minerva asked.

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Douglas said. “After all the trauma, carnage, and stress of the lead-up to the final battle, it’s your mind’s response to what it can’t deal with yet. You will need help with that, and most of the students who were there will need to be treated as well.”

“I know of no one who can deal with this. As I’m sure you know, mind healing in Britain is far behind what it is in the rest of the magical world, and I assume the Muggle world as well.”

“I am aware of that,” Douglas said. “It is why I studied at Ilvermorny after I took my OWLs at Hogwarts.”

“You could have stayed,” she said. It was an old argument. “You had eleven OWLs, most of them were Outstandings.”

“And even if I’d had eleven NEWTs with all of them outstandings, I would never have gotten an internship at St. Mungo’s for mind healing. It worked out better this way.”

She couldn’t argue with that. In the 1950s, the magical world was still very much a Pureblood dominated society where Muggleborns could not hope to do as well as even lesser Purebloods. Douglas had been a brilliant student and would probably have only been able to be a medi-wizard, had he gotten into a program at all.

“There is no one here who can help the students coming back in the fall,” Minerva said.

“I have a team of psychologists and mind-healers, trained in both magical and Muggle therapy, and I can bring them in for you and the rest of the staff this summer. We’ll put together a safe place for the students coming back in the fall.”

“Shouldn’t we start with the children now?”

“We should, but the adults need healing first, to be able to help heal the children. There are only so many of us in Britain at all. So, this way we’ll have more adults to help the children.”

That did make some sense to her. “And the children will not get worse?”

“Possibly they will. I’m not sure it can be helped,” Douglas said. “I want to get someone in to talk to you –”

“Not you?”

He gave her a slight smile. “No. I can listen, but I’m your cousin. You and I are too close for me to be your therapist. I have someone in mind for you to talk to. Someone I trust.”

“Thank you, Douglas. I am grateful,” she said.

“I’ll be there in a few days, with my team,” Douglas promised.

*****

Nott Hall

Early morning

As the dark mark was being seared into his skin, Theodore Nott woke screaming from the nightmare. He was drenched in sweat and the stink of his own fear. The pain receded as he fought to catch his breath.

One of his house elves was standing by his bedside.

“Are you all right, Lord Nott?” Jobaba asked, looking concerned. He was the Lord of the Manor’s personal elf. Even if he hadn’t gotten his Wizengamot seat yet, Theo had been accepted by his family magic as lord and head of house for the Nott Family.

No matter what time it was, no matter what the circumstances were, Jobaba was always there, ready to serve. He was always dressed in dark pants and a white shirt, with a waistcoat with the Nott Crest on it.

Once Theo had become Lord Nott, he required all of his elves to speak in proper English and dress in a proper uniform. Theo had always hated seeing them dressed in ragged pillowcases. While he didn’t offer them wages for their services, because that would have been an insult, he did ask them for their proper names, what they called themselves, and set up a large fund for their hobbies. Elves had many and varied hobbies. There was a day and a half off each week to work on those hobbies or whatever else they wished.

“I am fine. Thank you,” Theo said, sitting up. “Would you please have Morgaine get me something to eat after I get dressed?”

“It will be waiting in the dining room, when you are ready, Lord Nott,” Jobaba said and popped away.

Theo was now shivering and sweating at the same time. A shower would not go amiss right now. He got himself out of bed and into the bathroom. One of the things he needed to do was update all the plumbing and pipes in this monstrosity. Merlin, he hated living here. He needed to look into what other properties there were that he might live in.

He was just so tired all the time. It had probably been years since he’d had a full night’s sleep. But since the final battle, he had not slept more than an hour or two consecutively. All the horror came back to him again and again in his nightmares.

Like Draco Malfoy and several others, he had been marked the summer before his sixth year, well before he had reached his majority, and at least in his case, completely unwillingly. Well, he had been given a choice to accept the mark or die by Cruciatus. That wasn’t a choice as far as he was concerned.

Fortunately, he had been in school for nine months right after he took the mark, but last summer had been a living nightmare for him. He had begged to be able to start to study for his N.E.W.T.S., but his father had insisted he join him on their “raids”, which included things that Theo found so horrific that it left him sick to his stomach after it.

Despite being at the raids, he had not done anything that anyone could associate with him. He tried not to participate as much as he could. But what he had seen was enough to give him nightmares every time he closed his eyes to sleep.

So, he wandered around his big, empty manor house in the middle of the night. He needed to do something about it. He had power and money, but first, he needed to find the energy to do anything. And that would require more sleep than he was getting.

Theo yawned and rubbed his dry eyes. This simply could not go on as it had been. He spent his days so exhausted that he couldn’t get anything done. He had to do something. But Merlin, he did not have a clue what that might be.

The first thing he should do is make an appointment with his healer at St. Mungo’s about the nightmares and lack of sleep. He had the Wizengamot meeting tomorrow. Maybe he could get an appointment for later in the week.

He sat down alone at the huge table in the dining room and drank his tea.

*****

Outside The Wizengamot Chamber

The Next Day

Harry Potter was never going to be that happy to be back in the Ministry, but he felt he had to testify at the Malfoys’ hearing. While Lucius Malfoy was guilty as fuck for what he did, Draco had been sixteen when he was marked, and Narcissa had saved Harry’s life. Harry was all for punishing those who chose to serve Voldemort willingly, but those who had little or no choice didn’t deserve to go to Azkaban for something they were forced or coerced into doing.

And as much as Malfoy was a prat of the highest order at school, it was clear to Harry that by the end of sixth year, Malfoy was also terrified. After everything that had happened, Harry understood terror all too well.

The solicitor for the Malfoys had told him to check in with the Clerk of the Court. He supposed the wizard at the desk outside the Wizengamot chamber was the clerk.

“Are you the Clerk of the Court? Benedict Robertson?” Harry asked as he approached the small desk.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Robertson said, glancing up at him. “Are you here to claim your titles, Mr. Potter?”

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Harry asked, surprised by the question. “What titles?”

Robertson looked horrified, and opened his mouth, and then closed it again, clearly speechless.

Percy Weasley was walking by the desk, and he stopped. “Harry, you have inherited both the Potter title and the Black title. Did you not know that?”

“How would I know that? How do you know?” Harry asked. He could not believe this. But it was so typical of his life in the Wizarding World. No one ever told him what he needed to know. They all just assumed he already knew. “Shouldn’t I have been notified about this?”

Percy nodded. “Both by Gringotts and the Wizengamot. If you are not here for that, then why are you here?”

“To testify at the Malfoy hearing. I read about it in The Profit and got in touch with their lawyer about it,” Harry said.

Now it was Percy who looked shocked. “You should have been asked by the Malfoys’ attorney long before you read about it in the paper. What did they say to you?”

“That they tried to get in touch with me, but got no answer. I don’t understand why that happened, and I was going to look into it when I got a chance.” He was horrified about what else he might have missed. But the last year had been insanely busy, what with being on the run and all. Then the whole rush up leading to the Battle of Hogwarts, and the end of the war. So far, he’d not gotten the chance.

“You will need to claim your titles to be part of the Wizengamot,” Percy said. “I can tell you what to do. And then come back in a few days, and we’ll work on the mail problem. This is a serious breach of the law.”

“Would you? I would appreciate that,” Harry said. “How do you know what needs to be done?”

“I have been here for title claimings before, of course, and there will be a lot of them today. Bill will also be claiming the Prewett title, as well. My great-great Aunt Muriel passed on a couple of months ago. She was the last of that line.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Harry said, remembering both Ginny and Ron complaining about her being strict. “No one told me.”

“It was right as the war was starting to come to a head, and no one was thinking about anything other than that. And then Fred–” Percy looked down and sniffed. “I still cannot believe he is gone. The funeral is tomorrow.”

“I know, and I’ll be there. I’m surprised you are working today,” Harry said.

“I need to stay busy, or I will fall apart completely. Mum and Dad are together at home,” Percy replied.

“I’m going to miss him so much,” Harry agreed sadly. “So, what do I need to do with this?” He waved a hand around.

Percy sniffed again and then straightened his shoulders. He gave Harry a rundown on what he had to say. Harry hoped he would remember it all, but he promised himself that when he survived against all odds, he was going to take charge of his life. That was going to be his priority from now on. He should probably see the goblins about his finances, too.

Maybe. If there was time after the hearing.

*****

After he’d finished talking to Percy, Harry was allowed into the chamber. He only vaguely remembered it from a few years ago, when he had been on trial for underaged use of magic. That had been a complete farce, and hopefully, it would go better this time. There were tiers of seats that rose up from the center of the circular room. He stood with the others at the back of the last tier.

“If everyone will take their seats,” Robertson said, looking to the witch who sat at the chief witch’s podium. She nodded at him. He gave them a few minutes and then cleared his throat. “This session of the Wizengamot will be called to order. The honorable Donatella Burke presiding.”

Harry had no idea who she was, though the Burke name was kind of familiar. He thought she might be from a neutral family. He could hope.

She touched her wand to the podium, and it rang twice. “This session of the Wizengamot will come to order,” she said, and then glanced at the people down on the floor. “The first thing we will do is welcome our new members so that we may have as full a quorum as possible. You may proceed, Mr. Robertson.”

Robertson moved down to the floor of the room, pressed a button, and waved his wand. “We call upon the Spirit of the Wizengamot to hear the petitions of the new members.”

There was a loud boom that had Harry reaching for his wand, only to realize he didn’t have it, and that caused a moment of panic. But he took a breath and remembered he’d been required to leave it outside because no one could bring a wand into the Wizengamot chamber. It took a second for his heart to start beating normally again.

“I am the Spirit of Magic, come forth and speak your request,” the vaguely wizard-looking specter said.

Theodore Nott stepped forward and bowed. He was dressed in full robes, his hair longer than when they were in school and clipped back with some kind of barrette. There were dark circles under his eyes. “I claim the Nott title and vote. I was my father’s heir. He died in the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“You are the true heir,” the spirit said. “Your petition is granted, Lord Nott.” And Nott’s robes became the purple robes of the Wizengamot. “Do you wish to name an heir?”

“I have no one to name at this time,” Nott said. “Should I die before I can name one, my estates should be held in abeyance for a hundred years, waiting for the next Nott heir, who may be male or female.”

Several older people seemed to have sucked in a breath at that.

Percy had explained to him that it was standard procedure when there was no heir to name, also, the part about it can be a male or female, though he’d also said he didn’t think that would happen very often. Most of the old families were patriarchal.

Millicent Bulstrode stepped forward, also wearing full robes. She claimed her title, naming her younger sister, Charlotte, as her heir. Susan Bones came after her and also claimed her title. Like Nott, she didn’t have an heir.

Next came Neville Longbottom. “I petition to be allowed to hold the proxy for my father’s seat, freeing my grandmother from the obligation.”

That was also granted.

Bill Weasley stepped forward. “I petition to claim the Prewitt title through my mother as last of the line,” Bill said.

“Does your mother agree to this?” the spirit asked.

Molly Weasley stood and said, “She does.”

“Then it is granted. Do you wish to name an heir?”

“I name my sister, Ginerva Weasley,” Bill said.

The big surprise was that Dean Thomas was there. As far as Harry knew, Dean was Muggleborn.

Dean moved forward. “I claim the Fenwick title,” he said. “This is a Goblin-certified blood trace document showing that Benjamin Fenwick was my father, and this is the marriage certificate for my parents.” Dean held up two documents. And they both unfurled and floated towards the spirit.

“This looks to be in order. Your petition is granted.”

Dean’s robes changed colors. “I wish to name my younger sister as my heir for the moment.”

Pansy Parkinson was next. “I claim the Parkinson title as both my brothers are dead, and so is my father. I’m the last one standing –”

“I dispute the claim,” someone said from the visitor seating. He scowled down at her. “I told you I would never let you have the title, you silly bitch. You are going to regret not just letting me have it.”

“You are out of order,” Madam Burke said. “Come down to the floor and present yourself properly.”

In Harry’s opinion, the man was poorly dressed, and when he brushed by him, he smelled like he hadn’t had a bath in a week. This was not going to be good.

“I am Malcolm Parkinson. I am the last male heir to the Parkinson title. She can’t have it because she’s a girl, and it’s a patriarchal line,” he said and folded his arms across his chest, clearly very satisfied with himself.

“You are not in the direct bloodline,” Pansy drawled, sounding bored. Her entire attitude was superior and disdainful. “Just as I told you when you tried to have me sign that ridiculous document. Plus, you are a disgrace to magic. You didn’t take a single NEWTs and only had two OWLs with acceptables.”

“I am still the last male –”

“I will decide the validity of the claim and counterclaim,” the spirit said and seemed to look at both of them and said to Malcolm, “Your claim is false. You have no Parkinson blood at all.”

“What are you talking about? My father was a Parkinson!” Malcolm shouted, his face turning red. “You can’t do this to me.”

“My decision is final. Pansy Rose Parkinson is the new Lord Parkinson. There will be no argument.”

Pansy’s robes turned purple, and there was another crest of something on them. As Harry looked around, he saw that several people were surprised by something, though he had no idea what it was. Something else he could ask about. When he got a chance, and if he remembered.

“No. No. You can’t deny my claim.” Malcolm kept shouting about how unfair it was. And he was going to appeal the decision.

Harry wondered just who Malcolm thought he could possibly appeal it to? But it wasn’t going to be here.

“The Spirit of Wizengamot said you had no claim,” Pansy said. “And apparently, you are not even a Parkinson at all. So, if you do not shut up, you will be removed.”

He lunged toward Pansy but did not even get close to her. He disappeared from the room.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Pansy said as she moved towards her seat.

Everyone had gone, so it was time for Harry to step up. “I claim both the Potter title and the Black title,” Harry said. “I am heir to both titles.”

“Are there any objections?” the spirit asked.

Which he hadn’t asked for anyone else. Why him?

Draco Malfoy stood up. “I have no objections. And I think I am the only one who had a close enough claim to object to the claim on the Black Title.”

That was a surprise. But of course, Harry was there to testify on Malfoy’s behalf. It would benefit Malfoy not to get in the way of that.

“You are granted both titles,” the spirit said. His robes changed, and he went up to the Potter chair.

*****

The session went on for a bit, with old business and new business, and then they were ready to start the hearing.

Madam Burke touched her wand to the podium she was sitting at, and it rang twice. “This body shall now convene an inquiry to determine whether Narcissa Malfoy or Draco Malfoy should be remanded for prosecution before the Wizengamot or whether they are to be cleared of all charges and released without further magical or legal sanction.” She looked around. “Who wishes to speak for the prosecution or the defense?”

Well, this was where the Malfoys’ attorney said he should say something, but Theo Nott stood up. “If it pleases the court, I would like to speak in the Malfoys’ defense.”

“You may proceed, Lord Nott,” Madam Burke said.

“Lady Malfoy is not marked. She was rarely present at Death Eater meetings and took no part in the activities of the Death Eaters and little part in the war, and she does not deserve to be tarred with the same brush as her husband.” Nott took a breath and seemed to steel himself. “Draco Malfoy and I were both marked at the same time. We were both deeply unwilling, and although we were forced to agree to it, we both passed out from the pain. For those of you who don’t understand what that means, it is simple: the more willing you are to take the mark, the less it hurts. The converse is also true.”

“Thank you for your testimony,” Burke said. “Does anyone dispute what Lord Nott said?”

No one spoke up. In fact, several of the men present looked downright uncomfortable.

“Is there anyone else?” Burke asked.

Harry stood and repeated, “If it pleases the court, I will also speak in the Malfoys’ defense.” When he was granted permission to speak, he spoke about Draco in sixth year and said that he was miserable and afraid for his parents. He also mentioned that Draco had not given away who they were when they were brought to Malfoy Manor during the war. Harry also spoke of Narcissa saving his life by lying to Voldemort about him being dead.

One or two more people spoke for the Malfoys, and one person spoke against them, but they were far enough removed from the war that Harry could not believe that would make much difference to anyone. But this was the wizarding world, and they all believed the most ridiculous things as fact. So, maybe he was wrong about that.

Finally, the vote was called, and the court declined to send Draco and Narcissa’s case for prosecution, so they were exonerated.

Then it was all over. They closed the session of the Wizengamot, and the next session would be in August.

As Harry was walking down the stairs towards the exit, Bill Weasley caught up with him.

“Harry,” Bill said. “I heard from Percy that you did not know about either of the titles you claimed today. How is that possible?”

“Because no one told me or conveyed the information in any way. I was not notified by Gringotts, the Wizengamot, or the Ministry. It’s pretty typical of my life, really. No one tells me a damned thing,” Harry snapped. And took a breath to rein in his temper.

Bill looked taken aback by his vehemence. “I am sorry for that. I would have said something to you, if I had known. It seems unreal to me that you could still be kept in the dark. Whatever Dumbledore might have done to hold your mail should have been released when you turned seventeen.”

“What could he have done?” Harry asked. “I mean, he was dead before I was seventeen.”

“He mentioned that he put a mail ward on you when you were a baby. That was so the Dursleys would not be inundated by owls while you were growing up.” Bill’s brow furrowed as if he were trying to remember something else. “I think there might have been more to that.”

“Like what?” Though that sounded bad enough. The Dursleys might have treated him better if they knew there was someone watching.

“You did not know about the mail ward?” Bill seemed surprised by that, too.

“Obviously not,” Harry replied, becoming even more outraged. “Where did the mail go?”

“I have no idea,” Bill said. “Were I to venture a guess, it would be somewhere at Hogwarts.”

“I’ll have to look into that.” Harry took a deep breath. “Again, you all knew about this, and no one, at any point, thought to even mention it to me? What else have you forgotten to say?”

Bill shrugged and then rubbed his forehead. “I have no idea. Even as I try to think about it, I get the feeling I’m not supposed to say anything to you about the ward.”

Something about the way he said that made Harry look at him. “You might want to check to see if you were charmed in some way, especially if you can’t remember anything about that.”

“I doubt it. I wear a charmed token from the Goblins that should prevent that,” Bill said, and touched his throat, and a medallion appeared. When he moved his finger off it, it disappeared again. “I do not think that is the problem. It’s possibly just that my memory isn’t that good. I was in Egypt until the war escalated enough for me to need to return home.”

Harry nodded. That was also true. “Be that as it may, I should have been told.”

“I do not disagree with you about that. But after Dumbledore died, no one thought to say anything.”

“Which was typical,” Harry muttered and stepped back. There was nothing either one of them could do about it now.

*****

After he exited the chamber, he saw that both Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were waiting for him. There were all sorts of other people milling around, too. Great, that was just what he wanted. Another audience to watch him as if he were entertainment.

“Lord Potter-Black,” Narcissa said formally, nodding to him. “I would like to thank you for your testimony today. Given everything that has happened, I am sure that was not easy for you.”

“Lady Malfoy,” Harry said, trying to match her formal tone, and returned the nod. “It was the right thing to do, and I did not lie about what I said.” He looked at a somber Draco. “You and I were not friends, but I understand what you went through with Voldemort. No one at sixteen should have had to make that decision.”

Draco nodded once. “I was slightly more willing than Lord Nott, but I did not want to hurt or kill anyone. Not even a Muggle.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks for not objecting to my becoming Lord Black. That was something of a surprise.”

“I understand that,” Narcissa said. “I might be able to help you adjust to your new station in life.”

“How? I literally know nothing about any of this,” Harry said. He mentally added a book or two on wizarding culture to his ongoing list of things he needed to figure out. There might be something in the Black Library. Or he should find out if there was a Potter library somewhere.

“As I said, I can help you learn,” Narcissa said. “If you would like to.”

He glanced at her. And it seemed she was sincere, and he supposed she could be a big help with that. There was a big issue, however. “I am always going to be best friends with a Muggleborn,” he said, wanting that known upfront.

Narcissa smiled at him, still seeming sincere. “Does she want to learn about the traditions of wizarding culture? I would teach her as well.”

Of all the things that she could have said to him, he would never have guessed she would be saying that. “Seriously? Why would you do that? You hate Muggleborns.”

Draco shook his head. “My father hated Muggles, Muggleborns, and could barely tolerate Half-bloods. We, my mother and I, are traditional and do not appreciate our beliefs being sidelined for Muggle holidays the way Hogwarts did.”

Harry blinked. He could not have just heard that right. “You’re joking,” he said flatly. There was no way that was true.

“We were instructed on how to act by the head of the Malfoy Family. We had to obey, whether we believed it or not,” Narcissa said.

“One way or another, come the August session, I will be named Lord Malfoy, which will completely end my father’s rule over our family. And we will try to make amends,” Draco said. “I want to live in a traditional world. But I do not want to throw anyone else out of the magical world to do that. Too many of us have already died.”

“That’s true,” Harry said. “And yes, I would like to learn about it. But I don’t think that Hermione will go to Malfoy Manor.”

Narcissa winced. “Of course not. There are many places we can use to do this. I can book a conference room at Gringotts, if that would be acceptable. It would be neutral ground, so to speak.”

Harry tilted his head. They were pretty eager to do this. “What do you get out of this?”

“Better-educated Muggleborns and Muggle-raised wizards are not enough?” Narcissa asked with a slight smirk.

“It will look good for us to be doing something for our society that has not been done in a very long time,” Draco said more honestly. “If we want our culture to continue, we need more participation. As I said before, we have lost so many in the war, those who sided with the Dark Lord and those who did not.”

“Also, I suggest that you speak to Miss Granger about having the same tests run that Lord Fenwick had done,” Narcissa added. “I would not be surprised to find she is a lost heir as well.”

“I was going to ask Dean about that,” Harry said. It was another thing on his list of things to do.

“I knew Benjamin Fenwick at school,” Narcissa said. “Lord Fenwick is the image of his father.”

That actually made sense. He’d have to remember to mention it to Hermione. “I am definitely interested, and I think Hermione will be as well. But not until next week,” Harry said, taking a step back. “I have to see to several things before then.”

“I will send you an owl after I arrange the conference room,” Narcissa agreed. “Until then, Lord Potter-Black.”

Draco nodded, and they both stepped back and disappeared down the hall.

What just happened, Harry wondered.

*****

Chapter 2

The Following Day

Diagon Alley

Narcissa and her group met in a private room at Ashwood & Ivy, one of the poshest restaurants on the Alley. Each one of them had cast a privacy spell upon entering the room. Sadly, there were only four of them. And part of Narcissa wondered if that would be enough spells to actually ensure their privacy. Narcissa, Donatella Burke, Emily Greengrass, and Rose Parkinson were all that was left of their twenty-witch coven.

“Is there a specific reason you gathered us here today, Narcissa?” Donatella asked. “While it is nice to see you all, it seems unlikely that we shall find a way to continue the coven.”

“You are correct,” Narcissa agreed. “We have other things to speak of, though.”

“Such as?” Emily asked.

“Such as the fact that a full fifty percent of our generation is now dead or in prison for life,” Narcissa pointed out. “There are some serious concerns about that. It is entirely possible that we, the wizarding world in Britain, could stop being a viable culture.”

“And how do you plan to fix that, or can you?”

“I believe I can,” Narcissa said, hoping she was correct. Not that she let her uncertainty show at all. That would not do to inspire the confidence she needed in her friends.

“How exactly?” Donatella asked, giving her a look that said she was not certain about this at all. “Do you plan to add Muggleborns to our society?”

“Why not?” Narcissa asked. “They can be trained to become part of our culture. We need to ask them to join and tell them what they need to know.”

“How would we even start to work on that?” Rose asked, sounding disdainful. But she was always like that.

“If you must know, I have already started,” Narcissa said. “I have told Harry Potter-Black that I will educate him in wizarding culture.”

“And what did he say to that?” Donatella asked, not quite as disdainful as Rose, but close enough.

Narcissa smirked at them. “That he expected me to include his best friend, Hermione Granger.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Emily said neutrally, taking a sip of her tea. “Or that, after everything that happened in your home, she would have anything to do with you.”

“And how will educating one Muggleborn help with anything?” Rose asked. “She might be a war hero, but she is still only Harry Potter’s best friend.”

“Lord Harry Potter-Black,” Narcissa corrected. “Who is also a war hero, and in charge of two of the largest fortunes that exist in our world. As far as I know, Lord Potter-Black has had no education on how to deal with anything. Dumbledore kept it all away from him.”

“I am sure he thought that his sacrificial lamb would not need to know it, and if he did, he might have a reason to live,” Rose said. “What is your ultimate goal with this? And why is it important?”

“My goal is to educate both of them on what being a traditional wizard and witch entails. It would go a long way to counter what has been done to our society. This next generation of wizards and witches will all have their Lordships much sooner than they or we had expected.”

“Well, that is certainly true,” Rose said. “I was surprised that Pansy was made Lord rather than just a Lady keeper until she produced the next heir.”

“That was a surprise to me, too,” Donatella said. “What is she going to do?”

“I have no idea. She was raised in tradition, but she is independent to a fault. It would not surprise me if she decided not to marry and just blood-adopted several children. After her father and both of her brothers, I doubt she will ever want to be under a man’s rule again.”

“Well, I can certainly understand that,” Narcissa agreed. “We will see what happens. I plan to set the first session up for next week.”

“I thought you were still redecorating the Manor,” Donatella said.

“I am. And even redecorated, I am sure Hermione Granger would not be comfortable in Malfoy Manor. I am going to use the bank as neutral ground,” Narcissa said

“That is very smart. I am sure she has nightmares about what happened in your home,” Emily agreed.

“I have nightmares about that. It is why I gutted the entire first floor. When I am finished, it will bear no resemblance to the manor where Voldemort lived and ruled.” Narcissa repressed a shudder. She did not want to live in the same space where Voldemort murdered a Hogwarts teacher in what had been her dining room.

“There is another matter, that of our coven,” Emily Greengrass said after a short silence while they all sipped their tea and nibbled on their scones. “We need to do something about it.”

“There is no coven anymore,” Narcissa said. “Aside from the four of us, there are only a handful more of us who survived. And they are no longer suitable to be a part of the coven. As I am sure you’re aware, three of them are in Azkaban. And Thomasena Crabbe is quite mad and wants to use black magic to bring Voldemort, her husband, and son back from the dead.”

“That is quite horrifying,” Donatella said. “Surely, there are more that survived? Perhaps from another coven?”

Narcissa shook her head. “Not that I am aware of. Unless you would want to merge with a dark coven. Although any gray coven might be an answer. But there are few enough gray covens left. They are all probably devastated by the deaths of their members as well.”

“No one on the light side will want to have anything to do with us,” Rose predicted. “Especially not me or my daughter. Pansy tried to give Potter to the Dark Lord. And now that she is Lord Parkinson, I am not sure how that will work out in our society.”

“Speaking of your non-nephew, what possessed that boy to try something that stupid?” Donatella asked.

“Desperation. His family is destitute,” Rose said. “I am sure he was hoping to get his hands on the Parkinson fortune, and if he had, no doubt he would have squandered it quickly. But he was never in line for the title, and now he will have no name since his father was not a Parkinson at all.”

“It serves him right,” Narcissa muttered. “There is only one gray coven that I know of that is still viable.”

“The Blackthorn-Ross coven? Yes, I am still surprised that Minerva McGonagall has a gray coven.

Gray leaning light,” Donatella said. “But still gray.”

“We should send someone to talk to her about a merger,” Narcissa said. And looked at the shocked faces. “What? It would solve our problem and give us a powerful high witch as coven leader.”

“Do you actually think she would allow us near her or her prized coven? Rose asked, scornfully.

“I would be willing to ask,” Narcissa said. “Give me a week or two, and I shall get back to you.”

They all stared at her as if they had never seen her before. But desperate times required desperate measures. She was willing to beard the dragon in her lair to find a place for the four of them to practice that was not outright dark.

*****

Great Hall at Hogwarts

Noon

Harry was surprised that the Great Hall at Hogwarts had been cleaned and repaired enough for Fred’s funeral. It looked a little rough in places, but mostly whole. Fred’s was just the first of the funerals. And they would be holding others here as well. Even if he was going to attend as many of them as he could, Harry didn’t even want to think about the rest of them now. This one was to say goodbye to Fred.

Just as Fred’s funeral was supposed to begin, George popped into the room wearing a bright blue and green, striped clown suit, complete with a red, curly wig, big shoes, full make-up, and a hat with streamers that exploded out of it randomly.

Before anyone could react to that, those in the first three rows, which were mostly family, had their clothes changed from the dark, somber clothes they had been wearing to bright colors. His mother was suddenly wearing brilliant orange, and his father was in neon green. Bill and Fleur were wearing lemon yellow. Charlie and Percy were dressed in purple. Harry was in bright blue, and so was Ron. Ginny and Hermione were instantly wearing neon pink.

The only one who had no reaction at all was Hermione. Harry wondered if she’d even noticed.

Molly looked somewhere between outraged and infuriated, but Arthur had a slight smile on his face.

“Fred left everyone a message,” George said from his place in the front of the hall. Everyone was looking at him. He touched his wand to the box he was holding. Fred appeared, also wearing a clown suit, the mirror opposite of George’s. Everyone gasped at that. Fred’s image was huge, looming over the hall.

“So, if you are all seeing this, it means I did not make it through the war. I’m dead, and I died far too young. My share of everything in Weasley Wizarding Wiz’s goes to George. And he had better be following through with what we promised each other. Are you George?”

“I am, my brother,” George confirmed as if Fred could hear him.

“I’m not going to tell anyone not to be sad, but I am going to say that you all have to go on and continue the party without me. I do not want to look down and see any of you being sad past today. I did exactly what I wanted to do with my life, and every choice I made was my own. I loved all of you.”

“George, it is your duty to open that shop in Paris as we planned. I expect you to live for me, too. Twice as much chaos and mayhem. It’s on you, my brother. I also expect you to name your firstborn child after me.”

“Of course,” George agreed. “I would not have it any other way.”

“Now, I want you all to go back to the Burrow and to have a big party. Mum, you should cook up a storm, and Dad, you should show everyone all your Muggle toys. Have a great time, and I’ll be there in spirit.”

The image blinked out.

George shot off an impressive array of fireworks.

Both Molly and Arthur were laughing and crying at the same time.

But Molly stood up when the fireworks finally ended. “You have heard Fred’s wishes. Everyone is invited back to the Burrow so that we can celebrate the life of our son.”

*****

Gringotts

Hours Later

After the party — which had gone on all afternoon — Harry finally extracted himself and flooed to Diagon Alley to go to the bank before it closed for the day.

With some trepidation and deeply unsure of the reception he might receive from the Goblins, Harry stepped into the lobby. During the war, he and Hermione had broken into the bank and stolen a dragon and a Horcrux, among other things. He wouldn’t be surprised if they charged him with a felony or some other offense. The Goblin Bank was part of the Goblin Nation and, therefore, sovereign territory. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get his money or the Black Money without going in.

Oddly enough, he had a key for the black vault that had been given to him by Kreature after he’d claimed the title. He honestly had no idea where the key to the Potter vault was. He’d actually never been given it. And what did that say about his life and times?

He went up to the teller and cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to my account manager. Both of them.”

The goblin looked at him. “Do you have a name?”

“I’m sorry. I’m Harry P –” He stopped. The only way to get used to his title was to use it. “I am Lord Harry Potter-Black.”

“I see. Wait here.” The Goblin turned around and walked away from the window. Goblins were shorter than most humans and stockier in build. Most of the males had nicely groomed, full beards, sometimes with beads braided into them. Their long hair was braided into thick braids that fell down their backs. Truthfully, they all seemed to dress just like Muggle bankers in suits and white shirts. The one at the window had been wearing nice cufflinks with pretty red stones in them.

“Director Ragnok will see you,” the Goblin said.

“Thank you, Mister –” Harry looked at him.

“We do not use the wizarding honorific Mister, Lord Potter-Black,” he said.

“What do you use?” Harry asked curiously. He knew next to nothing about the Goblins.

“Your title,” he said. “Mine would be Teller Bordax.”

“Thank you, Teller Bordax,” Harry said.

Bordax looked slightly surprised. “Go through the door behind me, and someone will take you to Director Ragnok’s office.”

Harry nodded and walked around to the door indicated. He sighed as he went through it. It felt like he’d just learned something he should have known.

A goblin armed with a spear met him, and he was led to a heavy wooden door. It opened as they approached, and the guard left him there without a word. Harry walked into the room and looked around. No one was there. Which, yes, was strange.

So, he just stood there waiting. There was a big desk in the back of the room, and Harry could see it was decorated with what looked like runes to him, but he wasn’t sure. He should have paid more attention to Hermione when they were at school.

After a few minutes, someone Harry didn’t know appeared. “Lord Potter-Black,” the goblin said.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied. “Are you Director Ragnok?”

“I am,” he said and sat down at the desk, waving Harry to a seat in front of the desk.

Despite being made of bare wood, the chair was comfortable. “Thank you for seeing me. I probably should have made an appointment,” Harry started. “But I just wanted to take care of this quickly. If I can. I don’t have the key to the Potter vault.”

“Why is that?”

“Like with many things, no one thought to give it to me.” Harry worked hard to keep his tone in the respectful range. It wasn’t Ragnok’s fault that people failed him.

“You have never had the key to your own vault?” Ragnok sounded, well, horrified.

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t even know to ask for it. Dumbledore had it, and he would give it to Molly Weasley to buy my school supplies when I was still in school. After that, well, there was no money to be had.”

He met Ragnok’s eyes. “Which brings me to my next point,” Harry said and took a breath. “I have no idea what my holdings — if they are even called that — are. I have never received a bank statement or any documents on what I do or don’t own.”

“We can remedy the problem of you not having the information you should have had. But we cannot do anything about the past lack of information. You were sent a monthly statement for all of your accounts. If that was misdirected, then that is a Wizarding World problem. Not a Gringotts’ problem,” Ragnok said.

“I know that,” Harry said. “I am not blaming you or your people, but this is an explanation of why I know next to nothing about anything.” Even Harry could hear how frustrated he sounded.

“How can Gringotts help you?” Ragnok asked.

“A full accounting of everything and someone to explain it all to me since I’m Muggle-raised, and you can be assured that I was not taught anything.” He remembered suddenly that he needed to get in touch with Narcissa Malfoy about the classes soon. It had really only been a few days, but he got the feeling that not getting in touch right away was rude.

“All right,” Ragnok said and then stood. “I will return shortly with your accounts and let you go over them.”

“Thank you, Director,” Harry said.

True to his word, Ragnok was back in quite a bit less time than Harry would have thought. He stood up as the director entered.

“Let us sit here,” Ragnok said, pointing to the table at the side of the office.

Harry sat down and opened the book that was put in front of him. The first page listed all the Potter assets. It was a lot. There were two houses and a flat listed as property. “How do I find these places?”

“You call for the Potter elf or elves to come to you,” Ragnok said patiently.

“I need to remember that,” Harry muttered and opened the Black book. “What are all these withdrawals?”

“They are quarterly stipends for the Black family members,” Ragnok said. “You control those. And can cancel them at any time.”

“I hear a but in there?”

“You should find out who is getting it. Some of those people are quite old, and it could well be their only source of income.”

Yeah, take over and starve the old ones out. That would go over well. Harry sighed. “Can I just send them an owl and ask who they are?”

“You could also have a family meeting and compel attendance.”

He might also ask Narcissa about it. But of course, he had no idea if she would tell him the truth or not. “What do you know about Narcissa Malfoy?”

“In what sense?” Ragnok asked, tilting his head.

“Would you trust her?” Harry asked. “What do you think of her?”

“I do not know her at all beyond her dealings with the bank. Like all Blacks, she is reasonably respectful. She is known to be a traditional witch. Why do you ask?”

“She offered to teach me about Wizarding Culture, and I am wondering if I should take her up on that. She also said she’d train Hermione Granger as well.”

“She might be trying to make amends,” Ragnok suggested.

Which didn’t really tell Harry anything. “Maybe. I guess I’ll find out.” Harry stood. “Thank you for your time. If I can have copies of all of this to look at?”

“These are your copies.” Ragnok stood as well.

Harry nodded and left the room with the books and documents.

*****

The Burrow

The Following Day

Hermione looked up from the book she was trying to read, her hands trembling. She had just read the same sentence three times, but the words still made no sense. The urge to throw the book across the room was overwhelming, but truthfully, she just didn’t have the energy. Instead, she closed it and put it on the table near the chair. She stood to look out the window.

Harry and Ron were playing Quidditch in the field at the back of the house. They looked like boys again, shouting at each other as if the world hadn’t shattered around them just a few weeks ago. And then again yesterday. She knew that Fred had wanted them to laugh and to find joy in life, but she was devastated by his death. All the deaths. All the pain and losses.

How she envied Ron and Harry’s ability to put the war behind them, even for a few minutes to play Quidditch.

Hermione rested her forehead lightly against the windowpane of the room she was sharing with Ginny and just breathed in and out, trying to push away the sadness.

She didn’t hear Molly come up the stairs. Usually, she heard Molly coming as soon as she put a foot on the stairs. But Molly was much more cautious these days.

“Hermione dear,” Molly said from the doorway. “You didn’t come down for lunch. Are you all right?”

Hermione turned halfway towards her and tried to smile, but couldn’t quite muster it. “I wasn’t hungry,” she said, and she could hear that she sounded tired, which was fair since she hadn’t slept through the night in what felt like years. Or at least this year.

Molly came closer, hands twisting a dish towel she still held. “You’ve barely eaten all week. You are losing weight.”

Hermione looked away. It was true. She saw it every time she looked in the mirror. “I’m fine.”

Molly sat down on the bed and patted the mattress next to her. “No, you’re not.”

Hermione stood for a moment longer, then walked slowly over and sat beside her, back straight, hands clenched in her lap.

There was a long silence.

“I don’t even –” Hermione began, then stopped. Her throat felt tight. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”

Molly reached out, resting her hand over Hermione’s. Her touch was warm. “You don’t have to explain,” Molly said. “But I’m here, if you want to try.”

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. Her eyes stung.

“I can’t stop thinking about everything,” she whispered. “All of it. Bellatrix. Malfoy Manor. Hogwarts. The explosions. The screams. The smell of smoke. The way it felt to be helpless. And after all that, people just expect us to go back to normal, as if nothing happened, and we are the same as we were at the end of sixth year.”

“You’re not the same,” Molly said, voice trembling slightly. “None of us are. And I don’t think anyone expects that of you.”

Hermione glanced at her, and she could see that Molly looked as tired as Hermione felt, grief that probably would never heal apparent in Molly’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry about Fred,” Hermione choked out. She was having trouble even conceiving of a world without Fred joking with her. “I am going to miss him so much.”

There were unshed tears in Molly’s eyes. “So am I,” she said, softly. “Every day. But after yesterday, I think we all know that Fred would hate it if any of us grieved for him too long. His one goal in life was to make people laugh. That infuriating boy lived for that.”

Hermione snorted out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I know. But yesterday hurt, too.”

“It did. And it will. For a long time to come,” Molly said, and took her hand. “Tell me what is wrong beyond the obvious?”

It took a second for Hermione to figure out what she meant, and then a minute or two more before she could make herself say it.

“I feel like I’m failing everyone,” Hermione said, finding it difficult to put into words. “I can’t even read. Anytime I close my eyes, I hear her laughing. I can smell the dust in the carpet. I see myself lying on the floor of the library with her coming at me with that knife.”

Molly nodded slowly. “That’s how trauma works. It burrows in. Sometimes it pretends to go away, then comes back when you least expect it, twice as hard. When Arthur was attacked by that snake, I didn’t sleep for a month. I’d wake up thinking I’d heard him die.”

“What did you do?” Hermione asked. That must have been so hard, and she and the rest of them probably didn’t know the half of what Molly and Arthur went through.

“I talked to anyone who would listen to me. I cried a lot. I cleaned everything multiple times, and then went to work on Grimmauld Place,” Molly said, with a faint smile. “But mostly, I tried to let people help me. That was the hardest part. I wasn’t good at that.”

Hermione could understand that completely. It was hard to even think about it, let alone talk about it with anyone. “I don’t know how. I’ve never been able to let people help me. I was always the one who helped everyone. I had the answers for anyone who asked. And now, I have none for myself.”

“Well,” Molly said, gently brushing Hermione’s hair back behind her ear. “Maybe you’ve just started. That counts.”

There was another silence, but this one felt a little easier somehow.

Outside, Ron shouted something unintelligible and crashed into a giant mound of hay and grass. Harry burst out laughing.

“I don’t know how they’re doing it,” Hermione murmured.

“They’re not,” Molly replied. “They’re just pretending better than we are. And that’s fine, for now. But they’ll need help too, eventually.”

Hermione leaned slightly into Molly’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Hermione said.

Molly didn’t respond with words, but she wrapped her arms around Hermione and held her tightly.

For a moment, Hermione let herself be held and was grateful for it.

*****

As the sun was setting, Harry came back inside with Ron. They had chased a snitch for a while, and Ron had crashed into a haystack. He was covered in dirt and hay.

“I’m going upstairs right now to have a shower,” Ron said, heading for the stairs. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll probably head back to Grimmauld Place soon. I’ve got work to do there, and Kreature is expecting me for dinner.

“See you tomorrow, then,” Ron said with a backward wave as he started up the stairs.

Harry had noticed a weird kind of tension between them. It probably came from when Ron had left him and Hermione in the woods and had gone off to Bill’s house during last winter’s search for the Horcruxes. They had never talked about it. And maybe Ron had come back and helped after that, but it was between them. Maybe they should talk about it. But Harry didn’t even know how to bring it up.

He was about to go to the fireplace when he saw Hermione sitting on the sofa, staring off into space. “Are you all right, Hermione?” He asked, knowing she wasn’t at all okay.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, looking up from her book. “Did I see you and Ron crash into something? A tree? Or what?”

“It was a haystack and a dirt mound. Ron went up for a shower. He was kind of a mess.”

“You’ve got hay in your hair as well,” Hermione pointed out, but it didn’t have any inflection. None of her usual censure was in her voice.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“I’m fine, really.” She didn’t sound like she believed that, and Harry certainly didn’t.

And he finally looked hard at her. She looked like she was dead tired. He didn’t think she’d looked that bad at the worst of the trek through the forest last winter. Under her eyes were dark circles, and her cheeks were sunken.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “Tell me what’s wrong? You don’t look like you’ve gotten enough sleep.”

She looked down. “I haven’t. I can’t sleep without nightmares.”

Well, Harry understood that. “I have them, too.”

“I suspect we all have them, and that we will for a while,” Hermione said softly. Almost as if she didn’t want to admit it.

That was probably true, too. “Is there something I can do to help you?”

Hermione shook her head. “I think I just need to keep moving –”

“I think that maybe you need to relax and not move for a while. We were on the run for more than a year without support of any kind.” Well, Harry had had support from Hermione, but he hadn’t been much help to her.

“I know. I try to relax, but I keep seeing things that happened. I tried to talk to Molly, and she was very kind, but she doesn’t know what we went through.” Hermione held up a hand. “I know she has lost a lot, but it sounds like after yesterday, she was going to be okay. After a while, probably.”

Yeah. Harry thought that too. “Molly has been through a lot already in her life. She’d lost other people in both of the wars. Though nothing can ever equal the loss of Fred, she knows she needs to move on. I understand that. I’ve lost people, too,” Harry said. “I still miss Sirius every day.”

Hermione sniffed. “Me too. I feel like it’s always one more thing. I might be getting to the limit of one more things,” she admitted. “I couldn’t talk to her.”

“You don’t want to burden her?” Harry suggested. “I understand that. It’s hard to talk about that time. I doubt I could explain it to anyone.”

Hermione nodded. “There are so many things, too. I can’t even think about my parents. I know what I did was the right thing. But I don’t think I can get them back. I am not even sure where they are.”

“I know that you think that. But you should at least make an attempt to look for them. I can go with you, if you want.”

She smiled wanly at him. “Thanks. I should do that before school starts in the fall. I know the name I made up for them, and that I told them they had always wanted to immigrate to Australia. So, maybe they did that. I might be able to reverse their memory charms, but how do I explain what I did to them?”

“That could be a problem. How do you think they will take that?” Harry said, not sure that anything she could say would work. How do you explain a danger they would not be able to see coming as a reason for what Hermione did to them?

“I tried to put myself in their place, to imagine how I would feel about it, and I would be furious. Even with a good cause, I upended their lives. I wonder if I should just leave them where they are and let them get on with things?” Hermione said, sounding very sad.

“I think you should find them and see what they are doing?” Harry suggested. If they were doing well, it would ease her mind a bit. “Or maybe you can hire a detective and have them find them.”

Hermione looked up at him, startled. “That’s an excellent idea. A Muggle private detective could probably find them since they would be using the Wilkins name I gave them, and they would still be dentists.”

“Or if you could find a Muggleborn detective who would allow you to explain how you lost track of them. You know,” Harry said. “We should go to the bank and ask the goblins.”

“That’s another good idea,” Hermione agreed.

“Why don’t we floo over there, say tomorrow afternoon, and talk to them?” Harry suggested. “I have been finding them very helpful.”

“That would be great,” Hermione said. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to come back to Grimmauld Place with me to have dinner?” Harry asked. He did have a lot of things to do tonight, but maybe he could help her.

But she was shaking her head. “No. I think I’ll stay here. I am tired. Maybe I can try to sleep. I hate waking Ginny up.”

“Silencing charm?” Harry asked.

“When I remember,” she said.

*****

Chapter 3

Grimmauld Place

The Following Morning

Harry heard the floo as he was coming down the stairs. It was still early, and he wondered who it was. Of course, there were only a limited number of people it could possibly be, since the house was under a new Fidelius charm that he and Hermione cast after he decided to live here. The wards would only allow people in who were on a list that only Harry — as head of the Black Family — could touch.

Even knowing all that, he raced down the few steps and then into the foyer with his wand drawn and his heart pounding uncomfortably. Kreature was already there, and he just looked at Harry with a frown.

“Harry,” Ron said, sounding startled. “Sorry for the early hour –”

“Yeah, mate,” Harry said, his heart rate returning to normal. “Shouldn’t sneak up on a guy.”

Ron looked at him. “Sorry. I know that only certain people can come unannounced. And well, I needed to talk to you about something.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Too many surprises, too often. I don’t trust things even if they are supposed to be a certain way. I’ve found that doesn’t mean they work that way. It’s going to take me a second or two to adjust.”

With a sigh, Ron nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I think we each have different things that get to us. You seem really jumpy lately.”

“Yeah. That’s true.” Harry looked at him. “You want some breakfast?”

“Sure,” Ron smiled at the prospect of food. Some things never changed.

“Kreature,” Harry said. “Would you please make us some breakfast?”

“Kreature can do that,” he said. “What would Master Harry, Mister Ron, want for breakfast?”

Ron shrugged. “Whatever you want to make.”

“Sounds good,” Harry agreed.

They went into the kitchen and sat at the round table Harry bought after he inherited the house. After a few minutes, Kreature put the food in front of them and then popped away.

Ron dug in and didn’t say anything for a few more minutes. But after he was halfway through, he looked up. “Hermione is not doing very well.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I talked to her yesterday. She talked about finding her parents, and she didn’t seem hopeful about that.”

“Yeah, she talked to me a little, too,” Ron said and then moved the rest of his eggs around his plate. “I wish I could help her. But most of the time, I don’t even know what to say. I told her she could talk to me.”

“I said something about that, too. But –” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what to do for her either.”

“Maybe a change of scenery? Maybe she should get out of the Burrow for a while?” Ron suggested. “I don’t know.”

Harry wasn’t sure that was a good idea. “She might not feel safe anywhere else.”

“I didn’t think about that. She’s barely left since we came back after the Battle of Hogwarts a couple of weeks ago.”

“I did notice that,” Harry agreed. “I was a little surprised she even went to Fred’s funeral.”

“She might have felt like she had to go. Mum said she also talked to her yesterday. But I think that she’s only talking when someone asks her something.”

Harry thought that was probably right. “She is supposed to come with me to the bank this afternoon, and maybe that will start things off.”

“You should make an appointment with your account manager and not just show up,” Ron suggested. “It’s not considered polite to just arrive and expect there to be someone available to see you.”

“I did that the last time and ended up talking to the Director,” Harry said. “I’ll send them an owl after breakfast.”

Ron shoved another bite of food into his mouth and then pushed the rest of his plate away. “I’m never as hungry as I think I am.”

Since Harry never finished his food anymore either, he could understand that. “I know.”

“Do you need to talk about it?” Ron asked.

That surprised Harry. “I am not ready to talk about any of it, yet. I still need to think about it and what it all means. What about you?”

“I need to think about it, too.” He met Harry’s eyes. “You and I are going to have to talk about some of it at some point.”

Harry nodded. They would. “Not now. Let’s give it some time?”

“Yeah,” was all Ron said.

*****

Diagon Alley

That Afternoon

Harry had taken Ron’s advice and contacted the goblins, who told him that his account manager, Rickbert, was available at 2:00 pm. He and Hermione flooed into The Leaky Cauldron and walked across to the bank. Hermione didn’t look any better, and he didn’t need to ask how she slept. It was clear on her face.

They were ushered into the account manager’s office. “Good morning, Manager Rickbert,” Harry said politely. “We’re hoping you can help us with something delicate?”

Hermione nodded. “I need to find my parents, and I don’t know where they are. Harry suggested a detective. In the Muggle world, you can hire someone to find someone else. We were wondering how that’s done in the Magical world?”

Rickbert looked quite surprised by the question, enough so that Harry wondered if it was the question or the fact that they had come to him.

After a second more, Rickbert said, “I can help you with that. Do you prefer a wizard or a goblin?”

“Would a goblin be able to move in the Muggle world? I mean, my parents are Muggles.”

“We can easily disguise ourselves, and we have banks in the Muggle world which would allow us to trace them,” Rickbert said. “Such as, if we know the name of the banking institution that your parents used, we can trace where the money went.”

“That would be ideal,” Hermione said, with the first real animation in her voice that Harry had heard in weeks. “I can pay whatever you’d want to charge for that.”

“As you might imagine, it will not come cheaply,” Rickbert said. “But it can be done.”

“I understand,” Hermione said. “I have an account in a Muggle bank that came from my grandmother. That could be transferred to my Gringotts’ account, and the funds would be available for me to pay you.”

“Also, ” Harry said. “I wouldn’t want Hermione to bankrupt herself for this. I have plenty of money –”

Hermione shook her head. “You need to save that for your future –”

“I inherited a boatload of money from both the Potters and the Blacks. I’ve got you covered, Hermione,” Harry said and looked right at her. “I mean it. You saved my life over and over in the last year. And before that, too –”

“And you saved mine, as well.” Hermione had that stubborn look on her face. But Harry wasn’t going to let her get away with trying to boss him around about this.

“Let me do this,” Harry said, trying to convey how important it was for him to be able to help her.

“We can talk about it more later, but I can pay for a long time. My grandmother, Emily Nottingham, was quite well-to-do. And she left it all to me for my education. I would have to stay in school my entire life to even put a dent in it.”

“You mean you don’t plan to do that, anyway?” Harry snickered.

But Hermione didn’t laugh or huff. “No. Probably not,” she said quietly and glanced at Rickbert. “Can you transfer my account here?”

“I can,” he replied. “I will need the name of the bank and your account numbers. As well as your signature for the transfer. Also, we will need your blood signature on the account.”

“Like a blood quill,” Harry said, rubbing the top of his hand.

“Exactly like that,” Rickbert said. “But there are charms to make it painless. And it would be very quick to sign your name. It is regrettable that Delores Umbridge died during the war. We had plans to prosecute her for her use of our quills to torture students at Hogwarts.”

Harry had heard the Goblin’s justice was harsh. He was sorry Umbridge didn’t live to see it. Not that she would have survived it. And one way or another, Harry was glad she was dead. Though she’d probably gotten an easier death than she deserved.

Hermione nodded, as if she knew what Harry was thinking. “It’s fine,” she said. “Thank you. I don’t imagine you have any idea how long this will take?”

“No,” Rickbert agreed. “I will send you monthly reports. Along with monthly invoices. The initial cost will be one hundred galleons, as well as expenses.”

“I agree to that,” Hermione said, standing. “Thank you.”

After they left the bank, Harry suggested they go for lunch, but Hermione said she was tired. She flooed back to the Burrow.

*****

Hogwarts

Later That Morning

The surviving teachers met in the old staff room. The room and the table had been designed to enlarge itself to accommodate everyone, but now it wasn’t necessary. There were barely enough teachers to fill the table as it was. The room still smelled like chalk, but rather than being comforting, Minerva found it grating. It had not been that long since she had started her sessions, and while they were helping, it felt like it was slow going sometimes, and she wished she could speed up the process. She had so much to do.

Minerva sat at the head of the table, and Filius Flitwick sat beside her. Pomona Sprout, Septima Vector, and Aurora Sinistra all filed in and took seats.

“Where is everyone else?” Poppy Pomfrey said as she took her seat.

“This is it, I’m afraid,” Minerva said, glancing around. “Horace Slughorn has retired again. Hagrid was asked to work with dragons at the Welsh retreat and left last week. Cuthbert Binns moved on the day after the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“We’ll need to find replacements for all of them, as well as this year’s Defense teacher,” Filius pointed out the obvious.

“This is correct,” Minerva said. “Also, another divination teacher, Sybill, has also decided to retire to the country.”

“Will we be able to hire enough teachers that we can even open in the fall?” Pomona asked. “It’s hard getting teachers in the best of times, which these are not.”

Minerva breathed out. “That is true, so we are going to have to come up with a way to make teaching more enticing. Suggestions?”

“I think the biggest one would be to allow teachers to floo home in the evenings,” Septima said. “I, for one, would like to have a life outside of this school for more than a month and a half in the summer.”

“I agree,” Aurora said. “We are already overworked. Each teacher instructs two classes for each of the seven levels. We have scheduled evening patrols, lesson planning, grading, and extracurricular clubs and events. We are stretched to the breaking point, and it is exhausting. There has to be a way to get more staff and more teachers.”

She was right. All of them were overworked, underpaid, and understaffed. That was what Hogwarts had done to its teachers. And Minerva could see it on their faces. “I believe we can find the galleons, but we need people willing to teach.

“What about offering internships to some of the eighth-year students coming back to finish their classes and take their N.E.W.T.S.?” Filius suggested. “We could offer them specialized training of some kind or some other kind of help to do this.”

“That would only solve part of the problem,” Minerva said. “Though it is a good idea. Can you write me a proposal for the internships, including what we might require of the students and what we would offer in return? Also, let me know if you have someone in mind for it from next fall’s eighth-year class.”

Filius smiled, looking a little surprised. “I would be pleased to do that. Thank you for considering it.”

“We need to modernize the school, at least somewhat,” Septima said. “We are behind all the European and American schools in terms of teaching some magical subjects. Some of the schools in the Americas teach some useful Muggle subjects as well.”

“We would need to get that through the Hogwarts board,” Minerva said. “And I am not sure we could do that. At least not right now.” She rather thought the board would be outraged at the thought. “I believe we might have more luck with a Wizarding culture class for years one through three.”

“I think that would be an excellent idea as well,” Septima said. “I think with so many on the other side who were hampering progress now gone, if we make a good case, we might be able to do it.”

“Can I leave it to you to put together a presentation on the classes?” Minerva asked. “We can talk about it again early next month so that we can be ready for the board meeting.”

Septima looked surprised, but she smiled and nodded. “I will definitely get to work on that.”

Minerva glanced around and could see that the teachers were surprised by her including them. “I do not have time to do everything myself. I am literally going to end up doing three full-time jobs, so if someone would like to take on the Deputy role, I will cut their teaching load in half. And there will be a pay increase. Well, there will be a boost in pay for everyone next year, anyway.”

“I would do it, but I think Filius has more seniority than I do,” Aurora said.

“Filius?” Minerva asked. Either of them would be ideal. They were both hard-working and would do a good job.

Filius cleared his throat. “I can see how that would cause you problems –”

“I do not care in the slightest what anyone has to say about my choices of staff. The ministry has made some horrific choices, and I will not let that happen again,” Minerva said. She was still furious about the Umbridge debacle. “Do you want to do it? It’s more work, even with less of a teaching role.”

“I would be honored,” Filius said, with a nod of his head. “I can write up the requirements for teaching my classes, and I can do yours as well.”

“Why would you need to do mine?” Minerva asked, looking at him askance.

“You are the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Surely you realize that you will not be teaching classes anymore.” He glanced at her, and she frowned. “Well, perhaps one advanced Transfiguration Class for your N.E.W.T.S. students.”

But all the teachers around the table nodded as if that were a given. And Minerva had never even considered that part of being Head of Hogwarts. She’d have to think about that when she had more time, which wasn’t now.

“All right,” she said. “Some information. The repairs are going well, but there was extensive damage. Nonetheless, I have been promised the school will be back in operational order before the second week in August.”

Everyone seemed pleased with that.

“So, I will be here for much of the summer. What about the rest of you?” Minerva asked.

“I plan to go home for a week or two. I need to be away from here and work in my greenhouses,” Pomona said. “I can be back by mid-June.” She stood. “If you need help with anything, do not hesitate to call me.” She looked right at Minerva. “I’m serious.”

“Thank you,” Minerva said. And then turned back to the rest of the group.

“I plan to stay and work on repairs as well as whatever else you need me to do,” Filius said. He remained seated.

“My plans are flexible,” Aurora said. “I can be here to help out, too.”

“Mine are as well,” Septima agreed.

“Thank you,” Minerva said again. “I am not sure what I am going to need, so if you want to go home for a week or two, that will be fine. I think we should meet at least once every week to go over what is happening and what still needs to be done. I appreciate all of your support as we work out the details for next fall.”

Everyone else filed out, and she was left with Filius.

“We should talk about staffing in more detail and what funds we have for it,” Filius started.

“You are correct,” Minerva said. “I have been to the bank, and they were invaluable in explaining and then rearranging the accounts so that there was enough money for everything I wanted to do. The problem will be getting the teachers in to do it and having enough actual staff so that the teachers are only burdened with their own classes.”

“I suspect not having to give up your life for ten months a year will be more of a draw than you think,” Filius said. “I would be pleased to not be here for months at a time.”

“I would as well,” Minerva said and sighed. “The last two years have been difficult.”

“They have been quite challenging,” Filius agreed. “So, let’s get down to business and talk about the teachers and new staff. I will put the package of requirements together.”

“Excellent,” Minerva said, relieved beyond words that she wasn’t going to have to manage this on her own. “I’ll work on drafting new policies for teachers.”

“Shall we meet back in a few days?” Filius suggested.

She stifled a yawn and nodded.

*****

The Burrow

That afternoon

Harry sat on the fence near the back of the apple orchard at the Burrow. Ginny was all dressed up this afternoon, and he thought she was trying to look nice. And at some point, he’d hoped he’d start to want her again. But now, when he looked at her, he only saw a good friend, not someone he wanted to marry.

The whole concept of that distressed him. He’d wanted her all of sixth year, but so much had changed since then, and while they might have been edging towards having sex then, and she might still want to have sex with him, he pretty much didn’t want to have sex with anyone.

Or maybe that wasn’t quite true either. But he didn’t want to have it with her. That bothered him in a vague way. There was just too much going on in his head right now, and added to that, he was so worried about Hermione.

After Harry spent a few more minutes staring at the orchard, Ginny found him. “You should go back to the house. Mum is about to serve lunch,” Ginny said.

Harry hopped off the fence and stumbled. At least he didn’t fall on his face. “Sure thing,” he said, falling into step with her as she headed back. They stopped at the back door.

“We need to talk,” Ginny said, putting a hand on his arm before he could open the door. “I think you know this isn’t going to work out between us.” That was one of the things Harry liked about her. She said what she was thinking, right up front.

Harry nodded, grateful that she said it, and he didn’t have to. “I do know that,” Harry said. “And I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry about? We aren’t really even together, and even if everyone thinks we’ll get back together, I do not think it is going to happen.” She didn’t even seem that sad about it.

And it was a huge relief to have her say it out loud. “Thanks, Gin,” he said. “I didn’t know what –”

“I know. It’s okay. I have actually been dating Dean again. I like him. I’m going to see him later today.” She sort of fluffed the skirt on her nice robes.

That was why she was dressed up. It wasn’t about him. The relief from that was kind of amazing. “That sounds good.”

Ginny laughed at him. “You should find yourself a nice boy to date, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry said. And he couldn’t quite deny that the idea of a boy to date sent a shard of something pleasant down his spine.

“It just seems like you are not that interested in girls. To date, I mean. You might like boys better.” She smiled at him. “You will not know unless you try.”

It took a second for the realization of what she said to hit him and for him to realize it was true. He did look at boys more than girls. But he’d never associated it with anything. Because how could he be gay on top of everything else?

Ginny looked at him again, seemingly a little surprised. “You didn’t know?”

Harry shook his head. “I guess I never thought about it before.”

“Really?” Ginny asked. “It seemed kind of obvious to me.”

“She’s probably right, mate,” Ron said as he opened the back door to the house. “Mum has got lunch ready.”

“And you don’t have a problem with that?” Harry asked, incredulously. He could not believe what he was hearing from either of them.

Ron gave him that ‘what are you talking about‘ look he had. “Problem with what? Lunch?”

Ginny nodded. “What do you mean?”

“With me maybe not liking girls so much,” Harry said hesitantly.

Ron and Ginny looked at each other and then back at him.

“Why would that matter to either of us?” Ginny asked. “I mean, if I liked you like that, maybe it would matter, but only because I liked you, not because you wanted to date boys.”

She glanced back at Ron, and he nodded.

“It’s not accepted.” Harry could not believe they didn’t know that.

“Where did you hear that?” Ginny asked, folding her arms over her chest and looking pretty annoyed. “Has someone said something like that to you?”

Actually, no one had. He’d just assumed it would be the same as in the Muggle world. And said as much.

“Really,” Ginny shook her head. “No one thinks like that. Ever. Even the most traditional families would not say anything about a son or daughter’s preferences.”

Harry found that hard to believe. And it must have shown on his face.

Because Ron just looked at him like he was nuts. “My brother Charlie prefers wizards. Always has. I mean, my mum despairs of him ever getting married, but the liking boys’ part isn’t the problem.”

“Lunch is ready,” Molly called from inside the house, and they all went in.

That hadn’t gone at all as Harry had expected.

*****

Chapter 4

St. Mungo’s

That Afternoon

Theo was not sure about doing this, but he had no other ideas, and he was so exhausted that he was ready to try anything. So here he was. He was shown into the Mind Healer Meredith Dodge’s office at St. Mungo’s. She ran some tests on him and finally sighed. “There is nothing I can do for you, Lord Nott. There are no imbalances in your mind. So, there is nothing for me to fix with that,” she said.

“What do I do about the nightmares?” Theo asked.

“I can give you a potion to help you sleep through the night, but that is not a long-term solution since the potion is addictive.”

That did not surprise Theo. It was not as if he had held out much hope that they could help him. But it was a place to start. “So, you have nothing that can help?”

Healer Dodge sighed again. “No, Lord Nott. I am afraid I do not. “However,” she paused and glanced around. “I have heard there is a Muggle-Born healer who has had some luck with Muggle therapy –”

“Excuse me?” Theo said. “What is Muggle therapy?”

“It involves things other than using potions. I am not sure what else it does, because, of course, it is Muggle-based.” The disdain in her tone was apparent. “I have heard that some Muggleborn or Half-blood patients have used that option.”

“Who is he?” Theo asked. “And where do I find him?”

“His name is Douglas Cameron. I have heard that he is Professor McGonagall’s Muggleborn relation.”

“I will floo him when I get home,” Theo said. Not allowing himself to hope this was anything more than a slight possibility of help.

Healer Dodge still looked disapproving, but it certainly was not her place to question him. Especially when she could not help him, yet her whole attitude was superior, as if she knew the therapy would not be able to help Theo. However, that begged the question of why she even suggested it. He was too tired right now to figure that out.

“Thank you,” Theo said as he stood to leave. “I will let you know if I decide to see him and if he helps me. Right now, I have another appointment.” He was going to meet Draco for a late lunch.

*****

Diagon Alley

Later That Afternoon

Draco stood up and waved to Theo as he came across the restaurant. He looked as tired as Draco felt.

“It is good to see you,” Draco said, gesturing to a seat. “Thank you again for your testimony.”

“And you as well,” Theo said, sitting down. “I am glad it helped. However, I suspect that Lord Potter-Black’s testimony was more useful than mine. I am sorry to hear about your father’s incarceration.”

“I wish I could say the same, but I am not going to lie to you,” Draco said and then sighed deeply. “He brought this on himself following that…Half-blood pretending to be the heir to Slytherin.”

“My father followed him, too,” Theo replied, and touched his wand to activate the privacy wards on the table, which would not let the conversation carry beyond the backs of the chairs.

Draco looked up, surprised. “What?”

“I went to see Mind Healer Dodge at St. Mungo’s this morning, and she basically told me there was nothing wrong with my brain and that she could not do anything about the nightmares beyond giving me a potion to make me sleep,” Theo said with a sigh.

“I am not surprised by that,” Draco said, and waited because he could tell there was more to it.

“She mentioned that there might be a Muggle solution, but as you would guess, she was quite dismissive about it. I am surprised she mentioned it at all. Apparently, there is a Muggleborn who is mixing some kind of Muggle therapy with Wizarding mind-healing.” Theo’s tone was perfectly neutral, as if he were not sure of Draco’s reaction.

Well, Draco supposed that was fair given everything. “I have been working on a nonaddictive potion, but that is not going to make the nightmares go away. It will just give you a chance to catch up on your sleep. If there were another way to get rid of the nightmares themselves, I would be interested in hearing about it. I have woken my mother up almost nightly.”

“Silencing charm?” Theo suggested.

Draco shook his head. “Even when I remember them, it does not work with the elves, and they wake my mother.”

“I wake up nightly to at least one of the elves standing over me. Mostly Jobaba.” Theo sighed.

“Are you going to contact the healer? What is their name?”

“Douglas Cameron,” Theo replied. “Supposedly one of McGonagall’s relations.”

“Really? I had not heard she had any Muggleborn relations?” But all he knew about her personally was that she inherited her Pureblood mother’s title because the line was matrilineal. And she was as traditional a witch as he’d ever met. That was really all he cared about.

“Healer Dodge seemed to feel he was a close cousin,” Theo said. “I do not care what he is, if he can help me, us, then I would go to a Muggle without complaint.”

“Very modern of you, Theo,” Draco quipped.

“As well you know, I am very practical. I have a problem, and someone might have a solution. It makes no sense to me that I should deny myself the possible solution because of some arbitrary blood purity issue that came from someone who was a damned Half-blood, anyway.”

“And you never believed any of the blood supremacy idiocy at all,” Draco finished for him. “So, I would be curious to see if he can help you.”

“Would you see him?”

Draco paused for a moment. To not have nightmares every night and get a full night’s sleep again, he might do just about anything. He met Theo’s eyes. “As soon as it can be arranged.”

Theo kind of smiled at that. “Me, too. I’ll floo his office when I get home, and owl you the details.”

“Thank you,” Draco said and tapped his wand on the table, and a menu appeared in the air. “I’m hungry.”

*****

Hogwarts

The Following Morning

Minerva looked up as her door sounded. She wasn’t used to the office yet, despite having had it for nearly six weeks. Severus had used it during his one-year tenure as headmaster, but he hadn’t done more than clear out Albus’ possessions, and right now she had a fairly austere office.

At some point, she would need to decorate and move in completely. Despite the trek there and back each morning, she was still using her quarters in Gryffindor Tower. She shook her head to clear it. At least, she wasn’t as tired as she had been. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened, and Douglas came in. “Minerva. Good morning. Do you have a few minutes for me?”

“Of course,” she said, and waved him to a seat in front of her desk. “What can I do for you?”

“As you know, I’ve been working with my colleagues to set up safe places to talk to the returning students. The castle has been very cooperative, and the elves have found furniture and carpets that will add to the comfort levels.”

Minerva nodded. She had invited Douglas to Hogwarts the day after they’d talked, and he arrived with four other counselors to begin work with the staff. Most were traumatized by recent events, and a few were still affected by the first war.

She had spoken to one of the counselors daily for the last few weeks. Just talking about the trauma of the previous war, as well as the last few years, had been much more helpful than she would have believed possible when she started it. She saw things much more clearly now. The places where she could have done more, and the places — and there were many — where there was nothing more she could have done. It helped put everything into a perspective she could live with. Her nightmares had mostly stopped. And having a full night’s sleep was a luxury she would never take for granted again.

“Is there something else you need?” she asked. Because whatever he needed for the children, she would find a way to provide for them. They were going to need his services, probably more than the staff had.

“Not yet,” Douglas said. “My office got in touch with me this morning. Apparently, Lord Theodore Nott contacted them by floo and asked to speak to me. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Theodore Nott was a marked Death Eater.”

“Lord Theodore Nott, senior, was definitely a marked Death Eater, but he died in the Battle of Hogwarts. I am not sure whether or not Theodore Nott, the younger, was marked or not. But if he was, it was before he had reached his majority,” she said. “Did your office say why?”

“He said he was interested to learn about our services, Douglas said. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

“I suspect that Theodore — who really should have been in Ravenclaw — was probably forced to take the mark,” Minerva guessed. She couldn’t imagine what his war experience would have been like.

“You do know that one cannot be forced to take it, you must agree to it,” Douglas pointed out.

“There is agreeing with something, or agreeing because you have no choice, and that is not a choice,” Minerva said with a snort. “I have always suspected that several of the children who were marked before their majority were persuaded by coercion or outright force to agree to it.”

“You seem sure of it,” Douglas said. “How do you know?”

“What sixteen-year-old is ready to make that decision?” Minerva asked. “Will you see him?”

“I was going to ask you to contact him for me,” Douglas said. “I don’t know him. Maybe you can sound him out for me? But if he wants help, that is what I’m here for. Though you might mention that four out of the five of my staff are Muggleborn and the fifth is a Half-blood by virtue of finding out that he had a Squib grandfather and inherited the family fortune and title because there was literally no one else left to take it.”

“Knowing Theodore Nott, he already knows that,” Minerva said. “There may be others who fought on the wrong side who are now regretting it, and who might benefit from therapy.”

Douglas sighed. “I am aware of it, but I will not put up with any sort of overt prejudice, nor subject my staff to that, even to help someone who needs it. It makes for an unhealthy work environment.”

“I would never ask you or your staff to do that. And I’ll make that very clear to Lord Nott.”

*****

Hogwarts

The Following Day

Theo and Draco apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall met them there, and the gates opened. “Come in,” she said. “Doctor Cameron will meet us in his office.”

“Thank you for allowing us to talk to him,” Theo said, not familiar with the term she used. He should ask. “I’m sorry, what is a doctor?”

Professor McGonagall looked startled for one second. “It has the same connotation as healer in terms of education and professional requirements.”

“Thank you,” Theo said. “I know almost nothing about the Muggle world.”

“And I know less,” Draco admitted. “I was told that Doctor Cameron was Muggleborn. Where did he study?”

“He took eleven OWLs at Hogwarts, but given the blood purity prejudice at the time, he finished his education in the Americas at Ilvermorny,” McGonagall said, rather tartly, as if she were waiting for one of them to slip up and say something crass.

It was not going to come from him, Theo decided. “I am grateful that he is willing to talk to us.”

Draco nodded but said nothing as they followed her up the path to the castle.

“Hogwarts looks good,” Theo commented as it came into full view. There were some light scorch marks on the front, but all the stones seemed to be back in place. And it felt whole and safe again.

McGonagall nodded. “We have been working on it for weeks.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, glancing at the school. “It will be ready by fall?”

“It will be,” McGonagall said. “Were you both thinking of coming back to school, then?”

Theo was surprised that she asked them flat out like that. “I hope to. If we are allowed. I need to sit my N.E.W.T.S.”

“I do as well,” Draco said quietly.

“Everyone will be welcomed back,” McGonagall assured them. “However, there will be new rules, and we will be enforcing them much more thoroughly than they were enforced in the past. That will include everyone.”

Both he and Draco nodded. That was fair enough. What had happened during the years when Dumbledore was headmaster could not be allowed to happen again. Even if it favored the Purebloods, it was so unfair to everyone else.

She led them into the school and up the stairs. “Here,” she said as the door opened and a middle-aged wizard who did bear some resemblance to McGonagall stepped out. “Doctor Douglas Cameron, please let me introduce Lord Theodore Nott.” She pointed at him, and he inclined his head slightly. “And Mr. Draco Malfoy.” Draco did as well.

Doctor Cameron inclined his head. “It is good to meet you both.” And he held out his hand. “Let’s go into my office and talk.”

“I’ll leave you in Dr. Cameron’s care,” McGonagall said. “When you’re done, just head back out to the apparition point.” She walked away.

Glancing at each other, both he and Draco followed Cameron in, and the door shut behind them. The room was set up like a large sitting room or library at the manor, with bookcases filled with books, and several chairs in front of a large desk near the window at the back of the room. A sofa and other chairs were arranged around a large fireplace with a fire burning. There were carpets to keep the coolness of the old stone floor at bay.

For some reason, Theo found the whole room surprisingly comforting.

“Have a seat, both of you,” Cameron said, waving them to the sofa and chairs near the fire.

After they had settled and the silence had stretched a bit, Cameron cleared his throat. “Before we start, there are probably a few things that need to be stated upfront.”

“We know you are Muggleborn,” Theo said, and Draco just nodded. “We honestly do not care. If you can help us, then we would be very grateful.”

“Or even if you can just give us some advice to deal with this –” Draco trailed off.

Cameron looked a little startled by that. “Then, why don’t you tell me why you both are here today?”

Theo supposed it fell to him to explain, and while he was still a little dubious about doing this, he needed to do something. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have been having nightmares. Every night for months before the final battle. I am not enamored of the idea of taking potions to sleep. You were reluctantly suggested to me by my healer at St. Mungo’s.”

“How do you feel about it?” Cameron asked.

“I have not slept through the night in more months than I can count. Probably not since I was marked.”

“I have heard and read that you must be willing to be marked,” Cameron said, and glanced at Theo. “How willing were you?”

Theo let out another sigh. “I was not willing so much as in fear for my life should I refuse. I would basically have been tortured to death with Cruciatus. Frankly, at sixteen, I would rather not have died that way, or at all, truly.”

“I can understand that,” Cameron said. “I would not have wanted to be tortured at all.” He glanced at Draco.

“I was slightly more willing,” Draco said, honestly. “While I did not wish to be marked at sixteen, I assumed that it would not be me doing the dirty work.” Draco’s laugh was bitter. “I was made to see the error of my ways very quickly thereafter. My father displeased the Dark Lord, and I was given an impossible task to complete as his punishment. It taught me quite a lot. But it was far too late by that point.”

Cameron nodded and looked at Theo again. “What do you want to accomplish with this?”

It was clear that he meant the session. “I’m not even sure what this is,” Theo said truthfully. “What does Muggle therapy entail? How does it work? None of the books in either my library or Draco’s family library have anything about this. And there are no books in the bookstore about it either.”

“Forgive me,” Cameron murmured. “I had no idea there was no information at all about it. You might have found something under the Muggle Studies subject. But I cannot guarantee the information is from this century.” He sighed. “Therapy is a structured process where a trained professional helps a person to deal with an emotional or traumatic issue.”

“How do you do that?” Draco asked before Theo could.

“The therapist provides a safe and confidential environment for people to talk about what has happened to them and to work through their thoughts and feelings about it.”

That was not what Theo had expected, and he couldn’t see how talking ever solved anything. But his current situation was untenable, and something had to be done. He wasn’t sure how it would work for him, as he was reserved by nature and certainly did not trust anyone easily. “How long will it take?”

“My usual answer to that would be, as long as it takes, but that might sound flippant to you. And I assure you, I’m not. I will help you, both of you, if I can.”

“I am willing to try this,” Theo said, and glanced at Draco.

“I think I can try it as well,” Draco agreed. “Do we do it together or separately?”

“Whichever you are most comfortable,” Cameron said. “I have some free time to work with both of you separately if you’d like?”

Theo would prefer to do this separately, but if doing it with Draco would make him try it as well, Theo could do that, too.

But Draco shook his head. “I would rather it be separate. Theo and I are good friends, but some things…”

That was a relief. “I would as well,” Theo agreed. “Thank you. When can we start?”

“If one of you would not mind waiting, we can start today,” Cameron suggested. “And then perhaps every other weekday for as long as it takes.”

“That would be appreciated,” Theo said. “If you give each of us a consecutive time, we can come and go together.” Something else occurred to him. “What do you want in exchange for doing this for us?”

Draco nodded to that. “I was going to ask as well.”

“The school is covering our fees,” Cameron said.

Theo wondered just how bad a shape Cameron thought they were in, so that he wanted to start as soon as possible. “I do not mind waiting,” Theo said. “I can go up to the library and check for some books on psychology. When should I come back?”

“Give us about an hour,” Cameron said, and he glanced at Draco, who nodded.

*****

Theo got back to the office just as Draco was closing the door as he left it. Draco looked more tired than he had when he went in.

“How did it go?” Theo asked, curious about what was said.

“I mostly talked about what happened in the last couple of years,” Draco said. “I feel like I barely touched the surface of it. I guess I have not had a chance to think about how much has happened in that time.”

“I can understand that. There’s not enough time to think when you are in the situation. And then after, you just do not want to think about it,” Theo said.

And Draco nodded. “Did you find anything in the library?”

He held up a book. “I was going to ask McGonagall if I could borrow it to finish reading it. I only had time to skim a few sections. Some of the terms and ideas were completely unfamiliar.”

“If she allows the loan, I would be interested in reading it as well,” Draco said.

“I should get in there.” Theo took a breath, steeling himself.

“One more thing,” Draco said. “He mentioned that the dark mark might be able to be removed, now that the Dark Lord is dead.”

“How?” Theo asked because he’d always heard it was permanent.

“He did not say exactly how, but he told me to contact Lord Jonathan MacLachlan, who is the high-warlock of a gray-leaning conclave that might do a healing and cleansing ritual for us.” Draco yawned. “Talking should not take that much out of me.”

“I would be interested in that ritual,” Theo agreed. “Why not go home? I will see if I can floo home from McGonagall’s office after I talk to her about the book.”

“Thanks. I think this was a good idea,” Draco said as he moved down the hall.

That remained to be seen, Theo thought.

*****

Theo went in and settled on the sofa, and Doctor Cameron sat in the chair. It was surprisingly more comfortable than he thought it would be. “Where do we start?” Theo asked.

“You should feel like you’re in control of the conversation. I’m just here to facilitate it,” Cameron said. “Just start anywhere you want.”

Theo thought about it for a second. What did he really want to say? He could start with the worst and go from there. See what this wizard had to say. It was clear he probably had no idea what being the lord of the manor in Wizarding Britain was like.

“I guess it starts with my father. He was something of a tyrant, which I’m not sure my mother realized when she met him. She was a Pureblood princess from Scandinavia, and she expected to be treated as such. Unfortunately, no one told her British Wizards still considered themselves feudal lords. They fought constantly, and I will never be able to prove it, but I think he killed her,” Theo said without inflection. “She had left him and returned to her family for a time, and they were getting ready to fight for custody of me through the ICW.”

“Would she have won?” Cameron asked without batting an eyelash.

“Probably, but he would have never turned me over to them, and that would have been an international mess,” Theo said. “My mother was found dead in a Paris hotel, and the investigation found nothing. ”

“And how old were you?”

“I was eight, which was old enough to know what happened, but not old enough to run away. But I hated him for it,” Theo said. And that felt wonderful to say out loud. He kind of smiled. “But he’s gone now. And I’m the Lord.”

“What do you plan to do about it?”

Theo looked at him, confused by the question. “What are you asking me?”

“How would you change things now that you can?”

Theo opened his mouth and then closed it. “I started to say there was nothing I can do, but that is not true anymore. Now, I can do something. And I should.”

And that just opened up a long list of possibilities that Theo would need to work through. “I have never thought of myself as particularly political or even that interested in it. But it now occurs to me — and I mean just now — that several of my friends are going to be taking up their Lordships or Ladyships in some cases, and that we might put together a block to make sure this does not happen again.”

Cameron nodded for him to go on. “What would you change?”

“I would hold the Lords and Ladies accountable for what they do. The things they perpetrate on their children are a never-ending vicious cycle.” Theo took a breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have started with his father. Perhaps something else would have been better.

As if Cameron could sense the change in him, he said, “What has been the hardest thing for you since the last battle?”

“I hate Nott Hall, where I’m living right now,” Theo answered.

“Can you sell it?” Cameron asked. “Or lock it down for the next heir and find somewhere else to live?”

Theo had thought about doing that. But that had not been an option until a month ago, and maybe he should look into doing that. “I might think about that. I hate that place so much.”

“You should not have to live in a house you hate, or where you feel or felt unsafe.” Cameron paused. “Or you could remake it into a place you do want to live. A place where you can feel safe.”

“I wonder what feeling safe feels like?” Theo said. “When we were walking up to Hogwarts, it was strange that I thought that it felt strong and safe to me. I’ve never felt that in my own home.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about today?” Cameron asked after Theo had been silent for a few minutes.

“No. Well, yes. Draco said on his way out that you might know a conclave that could get rid of the dark mark. I would pay a lot of galleons to have it gone from my skin.”

“Can you still feel it?”

Theo shook his head. “My connection was always weaker because of how unwilling I was to take it. It hurt much worse for me because of that, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Cameron said. “I told Draco about Lord Jonathan MacLachlan’s conclave. They do some blood magic and a ritual that can do a deep cleansing of your body, and some might say your soul as well. It might offer you a way to take the taint out of the dark mark. Under the right circumstances, I think it can be removed completely.”

“I will contact him,” Theo said, standing. “I need to see Professor McGonagall about borrowing this book.” He held up a copy of what he’d found in the library. I’ll return it the next time I see you.”

“Were there any others?”

“Not many, but this one looked like it had the most information in it,” Theo said.

“It does, and mostly it is accurate, unlike much of the Muggle Studies information. Which is at least fifty to seventy-five years out of date.”

Theo snorted. He’d never been told that, but somehow it was not even a surprise. “Good to know.”

“I’ll owl you with a schedule until school starts, and then we can discuss when you’d like to have sessions during the school year.”

“That would be good. Thank you,” Theo said sincerely.

*****

When he got to the Gargoyle that guarded the head’s office, it was not there, and he rode the stairs up to the top and knocked.

“Come in, Lord Nott,” McGonagall called.

He pushed the door open and came into the office. In his years at Hogwarts, he had never been up here. And apparently there wasn’t much to see, either. There seemed to be something obscuring the wall of the previous headmasters’ and headmistress’ portraits. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the portraits were blurry. The rest of the office had a few books in the bookcases and many empty spaces on the other walls. It was clear she hadn’t started to decorate her office.

He cleared his throat. “Hello, Headmistress. I wondered if I might borrow this book?” He held it up.

“Where did you find that?” she asked.

“In the Muggle Studies section. Dr. Cameron said it was good enough to give me an understanding of what he is doing.”

McGonagall nodded. “That will be fine. Just be sure to return it before school starts.”

“I should be done with it in a few days, although Draco said he might like to read it as well,” Theo said. He took a step back. “I am sure you are busy.”

“Ach, lad, that I am. I hope that Doctor Cameron was helpful to you,” she said, sounding like it mattered to her.

“I believe it will be beneficial to continue to speak with him, perhaps even after we start school again,” Theo replied. Just having been able to say those few things out loud had felt so freeing. He had high hopes for what else might free him from his father’s legacy.

“I’ve been thinking of using some of the more advanced eighth years to teach or help teach first year classes. Would you be interested?” she asked.

“I have never taught anyone anything before, but I would be happy to help out in any way I could,” he said, surprised as hell at himself for saying that. But it felt right. “Are the damaged areas fixed now?”

“Another few weeks,” she said with a sigh. “By mid-August, everything should be ready for the students’ return. I will be in touch with my volunteers to help out with teaching. Do you have a preference for a subject?”

“I’m good with Charms and Transfiguration,” he said. “Arithmancy was my best subject, but that is a third-year class.”

“Would you want to teach the first year of it? Professor Vector will give you her class syllabus and notes,” McGonagall said. “There might also be someone else to help you with that.”

He wondered who else she could get for that class since it was pretty advanced to start with. “I would,” Theo agreed. “If you would want that. I appreciate being allowed back into school to finish.”

“I do not expect trouble from any of you.” McGonagall looked at him. “I meant what I said about new rules.”

“I was never one to break them in the first place. I just wanted an education.” He looked back at her. “I still just want an education.”

“So, you did,” she said. He wondered what she knew about him. Probably not a lot since he didn’t get into trouble the way Draco and Pansy did.

“Would you mind if I used the floo to go home?” he asked.

“Of course not,” McGonagall said. “The one in the downstairs main hall is open.”

“Thank you,” he replied as he left the office.

*****

Chapter 5

The Burrow

Molly brought the tea service out and fussed with the plates of sandwiches and chocolate biscuits.

After seeing how badly Hermione Granger was faring, Minerva wasn’t really in a mood for treats. “How long has Miss Granger been this bad?”

“Since right after the final battle,” Molly answered, handing her a cup of tea.

Minerva helped herself to some sugar and milk for it. She took a bite of one of the biscuits. They were delicious as always.

“No one has thought to do anything for her?” Minerva asked, trying not to be annoyed. “Has she slept at all?”

“Not through the night,” Molly confirmed. “She wakes from nightmares every night. I suspect by now, she’s avoiding even lying down until she cannot hold her head up any longer.”

Minerva understood that. “I will speak to her on my way out.”

“I’m not sure what good it will do,” Molly said. “I have tried to talk to her for weeks. I know Ron and Harry have as well.”

“And no one has gotten through to her?” Minerva guessed.

Molly shook her head. “She cannot seem to respond to anyone. I wish there were something I could do beyond what we have all tried.”

“I should have mentioned this sooner, but my cousin is a mind healer as well as knowing Muggle psychological techniques.”

“I did not know that,” Molly said, her eyes wide, a surprised expression on her face. “I hadn’t realized that combination was even possible.”

“I actually did not either until I talked to him right after the Battle of Hogwarts. He had one of his colleagues work with me –”

“And it helped?” Molly asked. “How did it help you?”

“I was able to talk about the nightmares. About what happened during the years leading up to the war, and then what the final battle took out of all of us. Then, I talked about what I was feeling about it all.” Minerva felt like she wasn’t putting this into words completely correctly, but she had to try. “It did help me quite a bit. I believe this will help Hermione and the others who are damaged by what happened.”

Molly looked a little skeptical, but said, “At this point, anything that would help Hermione would be a good thing. I honestly do not care who or what it is.”

“I am not sure everyone else would be so willing,” Minerva said and took a breath. She was never sure what anyone would think about it. “My cousin is Muggleborn –”

“He did not go to Hogwarts, I take it?” Molly asked.

“He did, until his OWLs, where he did quite well, but after he transferred to the states.”

“He wanted a career in healing, then?” Molly had to know the answer to that question.

“He did. And while I was unhappy with him leaving Hogwarts, it turned out to be the best thing for him and for us now. There is nothing in magical Britain that can help with what’s wrong with those of us who lived through the war.”

Molly just nodded. “You should mention all of this to her. Maybe she will listen to you.”

“Hermione was not the reason I came here today. I want to do a ritual cleansing on Hogwarts before the school year starts. And for anyone — including myself — who wants a healing or cleansing ritual. Would you be interested?”

“I would. I suspect that most of the coven would be interested in that,” Molly suggested. And then cleared her throat. “Well, most of those who survived.”

Minerva looked down and closed her eyes for one second. “Yes. We lost about half of our witches in the last few years.”

“I know. I am sometimes overwhelmed by our losses,” Molly said with a sniff.

Minerva was too but, “All we can do is go on and help those that we can. I will reach out to all of our remaining sisters and give them the option of a cleansing and healing ritual.”

“I wonder if Hermione would be interested?” Molly asked.

“I have no idea,” Minerva said. “But she has never shown much interest in ritual magic in the past.”

“I’ve always thought you needed to be of a certain age for it to even make sense to a witch.”

Again, Minerva agreed with her. “One thing at a time. Let us see if she will let Douglas help her.”

*****

Minerva knocked on the bedroom door. “May I come in?” she asked.

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione closed the book she was holding and looked up at her. Her eyes had dark circles around them, and her cheeks were sunken from the weight she’d lost. Minerva had never seen her so unkempt. “What can I do for you?”

“I think it might be what I can do for you,” Minerva said. “You look a bit worse for wear, Lass.”

“I am all right, Professor. No need to worry about me,” Hermione said, and that was clearly so far from the truth that it was almost laughable.

Minerva gave her a look that said that, but it was clear that Hermione was not paying attention. And even more clear as the silence dragged on.

“I might know someone who can help you,” Minerva said, knowing she was probably in for a fight about this.

“I don’t really need any help,” Hermione said, not looking at her. “I am doing just fine. I am.”

“That would be a lie. Your pain and suffering are written on your face.” Minerva folded her arms over her chest and continued to look down at her.

But Hermione was shaking her head, clearly not going to admit to anything. “I’m not sure what you mean by that. I’m fine.”

“My cousin Douglas is at Hogwarts now. He was trained as a psychologist. He’s got a whole team of people who are setting up to help the students and teachers who are having nightmares or who went through so much during the war. I think you might benefit from speaking to him. Or one of his colleagues,” Minerva said, hoping it would get through to her.

Hermione was already shaking her head again. “I can cope with what happened. I am doing just fine.”

“Are you?” Minerva asked. “Because it does not look like it from where I’m standing. You look done in.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, and then, surprisingly, Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. “I do not want this. I need to learn to cope with what happened, and I need to do it on my own. I can’t give in –”

“Why on earth do you think you need to do it on your own when there is help available to you?” Minerva asked, and she sat down beside Hermione on the bed.

“Because I have always been able to deal –”

“No one can deal with everything. Everyone has a breaking point. We are all traumatized by what happened –”

Hermione finally looked at her. “You are not –”

“Of course I am,” Minerva said, sharply, and then modulated her tone somewhat. “I will have you know that I have spent every morning since a week after the final battle talking to one of my cousin’s colleagues.”

“You? Really?” Hermione seemed so shocked by that. “You are one of the strongest witches I know.”

“And yet, everyone might need some help coping now and then,” Minerva assured her. “It will not make you weak to admit how bad things have become. Too many people are suffering right now for anyone to say anything. It is very hard to move on, if you cannot get any rest.”

Hermione nodded and looked down. “I know. I am so tired. Everything seems so much bigger and uglier when I can’t concentrate.”

“Why not come to Hogwarts tomorrow, maybe at eleven, and I will ask Douglas to talk to you. Maybe he can find something to help you. Or would you prefer a witch?”

“I honestly do not care. Whoever is available to speak with me,” Hermione said, sounding relieved, and she looked at Minerva. “I want an explanation of what they are doing as well.”

“Of course,” Minerva said as she stood. She reached down and put a hand on her shoulder. “It will get better. I promise you that.”

*****

Hogwarts

The Following Day

Hermione came through the floo in the main foyer of the school. Professor McGonagall had owled her with a slight change in time and directions to Dr. Cameron’s office. She was deeply unsure about doing this, but she needed to do something. The mire in her mind was so bad that she couldn’t think anymore, and the lack of sleep was starting to become critical to her health.

As she headed up the stairs, she saw someone coming down the corridor, and she stiffened. She recognized him as one of the Slytherins in her year. Not one of the truly obnoxious ones like Malfoy or Parkinson, but still a Pureblood. He was dressed in full robes, even in the heat of summer. Wasn’t that just typical of all of them?

“Good morning, Granger,” he said as he came abreast of her on the landing. “Are you going to see Dr. Cameron?”

She was shocked that he was even going to talk to her, let alone ask her that. “What business is it of yours?” she snapped.

“My apologies. You are correct. It is no concern of mine,” he said and bowed slightly, and started to move past her. “Good day.”

“Wait,” she said as he would have moved away. She turned to look at him. “Nott, right?”

He nodded once, and his eyes were wary.

“I apologize.” She sighed. “I am not myself lately. And you don’t deserve my rudeness.”

Nott seemed to look at her, taking in her appearance. “You do not look like you have slept lately. Are you not well?”

Hermione wanted to snap at him again, but that would be doubly rude. “I am hoping to mitigate that soon.” She nodded in the direction of the office she was heading to. “I do have an appointment with Dr. Cameron.”

“I just saw him,” Nott said. “He has been remarkably helpful to me.”

That was a surprise. Because, “I had heard he was Muggleborn.”

“He is,” Nott confirmed. “And as I said, remarkably helpful. The war was not easy for anyone, especially for those of us who chose — or were forced to choose — unwisely.”

It might have been worse for them, given who they followed. “I am sorry. I think you are probably correct. But no one made it out of the conflict unscathed.” She looked at him and started to step away. “Thank you.”

Nott inclined his head. “I wish you good luck.”

“You as well,” she moved down the corridor. That was the longest and least antagonistic conversation she’d ever had with a Slytherin that wasn’t entirely about schoolwork. Maybe that was a hopeful sign.

*****

Hermione knocked on the door, and a middle-aged man who vaguely resembled Professor McGonagall answered the door. He was tall and had dark hair threaded with gray and a kind face, not as sharp as McGonagall’s.

“Hermione Granger?” he asked, holding out his hand. “I’m Doctor Cameron.”

“Good to meet you, sir,” Hermione said after a second, her good manners kicking in. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Minerva, Professor McGonagall, said you might need some help.”

“I…” she didn’t know what to say to that. It was true. But she didn’t know him, and admitting a weakness like that was nearly impossible with someone like McGonagall, whom she trusted, and it was just not possible in this situation.

“Why don’t we sit down?” he suggested.

The office was nice, and she could see the effort that had gone into making the old classroom comfortable. She sat on the sofa and closed her eyes for a moment. “What should I do?”

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“I guess that is why I am here. But I find it nearly impossible to verbalize any of it.”

“Rather than trying to talk about everything, why not try to talk about one thing. Maybe not even a big thing yet. Tell me about something that happened during the war.”

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, trying to think. What happened? Everything happened. The image of Bellatrix started to form, and she opened her eyes and tried not to panic.

“It’s okay,” he said, soothingly. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten in your head.”

He waited for her to do it, and she felt the constriction in her chest ease. “Thanks. I don’t think I can talk about that yet.”

“There is no rush to talk about anything. It will come out when you’re more comfortable.”

“One thing that happened, it was kind of funny, in a terrifying way,” Hermione said and forced a laugh. “I Polyjuiced myself to be Bellatrix Lestrange to get into her vault at Gringotts.”

There was no reaction from Cameron. “How did that work out for you?”

“Better than it should have,” Hermione said. “We got the Horcrux out of her vault.”

“I’m sorry, Horcruxes?” Cameron sounded — something — surprised didn’t cover it.

“Uh…yes. He made several of them,” Hermione said. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. “This is confidential, right? You won’t tell anyone?”

“I will not,” Cameron promised immediately.

And that relieved the tension in Hermione. She took a deep breath. “You know what they are, right?”

Cameron nodded. “I do. But not that Voldemort had made any.”

“We had to search for them. And then we had to figure out how to get rid of them while we were on the run from everyone,” Hermione said. “Those things were horrible to carry around. They made us crazy.”

“I am sure they did,” Cameron agreed. “Go on. What else did you encounter?”

“Death Eaters, and Snatchers. We lived in a tent in the Forest of Dean. It was cold. We were hungry most of the time,” she hissed. “It was awful.”

“I’m sure the stress of that was terrible,” Cameron said, sounding very sympathetic.

Hermione shivered in the warm room. “I have been having nightmares for weeks. I do not want to take anything for it. But I need to sleep,” she said, sounding pretty pathetic to herself. She rubbed her arm and winced.

“You might ask Madam Pomfrey for something. Just to get a little caught up on your sleep,” Cameron suggested. “Is something wrong with your arm?”

She grimaced. “I’m not ready to talk about that.”

“Are you injured? You don’t need to say how or why, but if you are, you should have someone look at it.”

“I don’t think there is anything that can be done about it. It’s a magical wound,” Hermione said and took off her jacket, rolling up her sleeve to show the oozing wound along her arm from Bellatrix’s knife.

“You should have that looked at by someone who can close it completely and heal it.”

“I was told it couldn’t ever be healed,” Hermione said.

“Madam Pomfrey can close it. It will scar, but it won’t cause you pain. I also think that once it’s closed, you can go through a healing ritual with a coven, and they can at least make it less visible. And possibly remove it.”

“I have always understood that ritual magic was dark.” Hermione could not believe a Muggleborn would suggest such a thing.

“Magic is about intent. If the intent is to heal, then it’s not dark. Just like blood magic is about intent. If you use it for a dark purpose, it is dark, and if you use it as a sacrifice to power your wards, it makes them stronger than just simple runes cut into your foundation.”

Hermione’s mind fought through the mire of her problems, and she looked at him. “I hadn’t ever considered that. It makes sense.”

Dr. Cameron smiled at her. “It does. You should ask Professor McGonagall about the ritual.”

“Why her specifically?” Hermione asked.

“She’s the high priestess of the Blackthorn-Ross coven,” Cameron said.

What? Wait. No. A little more of the mire in her mind cleared with her shock. “I will do that,” Hermione said. Right now, in fact.

*****

The Gargoyle was not on its pedestal, and so Hermione took that as an invitation to go up. She knocked on the door and heard, “Come in.”

“Professor?” she said hesitantly.

“Miss Granger,” Minerva said. “Please come in. What can I do for you?”

Hermione took a breath and mentally squared her shoulders. “I was told by Dr. Cameron that you were the high priestess of a coven,” Hermione started. She fully expected McGonagall to laugh in her face.

Except she didn’t. She looked at Hermione like she knew what she was thinking. “I am. I am sure that comes as a shock to you.”

“It does,” Hermione said. She could not believe that. “You practice dark magic?”

“Of course not,” McGonagall said fairly forcefully. “But ritual magic does not have to be dark. What was taught at school never said anything like that.”

“But that is what I’ve always heard,” Hermione said.

“From whom did you hear it?”

Hermione thought about it. And she could not recall a time when someone had told her that. “Why do I feel this is true?”

“Someone probably implied it, and you took it to heart,” McGonagall said. “Did you have a question about it or about the coven?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “Dr. Cameron told me that you could do a cleansing ritual to help with this. Again, she took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeve to show the wound.

McGonagall reached out but didn’t touch it, instead putting her hand above it, as if she were reading something. Maybe she was. She hissed out a surprised breath. “Who did that to you?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” Hermione murmured. “At Malfoy Manor. When we were captured by the snatchers.”

McGonagall nodded and withdrew her hand. “Unfortunately, it is going to leave a scar, but I think my coven will be able to cleanse the wound and your magic. If you would like us to do that?”

“I would,” Hermione said. “I would wish for it to be gone completely, but anything to heal the constant ache of it would be welcome.”

“We are going to do ritual cleansings on Hogwarts and all of my members, especially those who took part in the war, probably on the new moon in August. If you wish, you may join us for that. I’m sure it will be good for you.”

Hermione stood. “Thank you so much,” she said. “Would it be all right if I went to the library to look for something on ritual magic?”

“There should be several books on the subject,” McGonagall said. “Please have them back to the library before the end of the summer.”

“Thank you again,” Hermione said as she went to the door.

*****

Chapter 6

Gringotts

A Few Days Later

Harry, Ron, and Hermione flooed to the bank from the Burrow. They were escorted to a meeting room that Narcissa Malfoy had arranged. The room was small and warm, with a table and four chairs, as well as a sofa and armchairs. There was a large fireplace. The room felt friendly to Harry.

Narcissa stood as they came in, and Harry felt really underdressed. It wasn’t just that she was in formal robes, and she looked so, so — Harry didn’t have words for it. Hermione stiffened at the sight of her. But that was to be expected. He’d had to needle her into coming at all.

She’d been going to see Dr. Cameron every day. Harry didn’t think there had been enough time for it to do that much good yet.

Surprisingly, Narcissa smiled as they came in. “Lord Potter-Black, Miss Granger, I am glad you could make it. I have to say that I am very much surprised to see you here, Mr. Weasley. Were you not taught wizarding traditions as a child? I know that Muriel Prewett was a traditional witch.”

“She was used as punishment for us, and she did try. Both my parents grew up in traditional households, and neither seemed inclined to force — teach — it to their children,” Ron said and cleared his throat. “I thought I could maybe use a refresher.”

“I am sure you know more than you think you do,” she said. “You are welcome to join in as well.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Ron said with a slight bow that completely surprised Harry.

“We do appreciate your time and trouble,” Hermione said a little stiffly.

Harry nodded.

“I thought we would begin with forms of address and greetings, since that creates a good or bad first impression,” Narcissa suggested. “Mr. Weasley, would you stand and introduce Lord Potter-Black to me, formally?”

Ron’s ears went red, but he stood and joined her on that side of the table. He bowed slightly to her. “Lady Malfoy, please meet my best friend, Lord Harry Potter-Black.”

“Now, Lord Potter-Black, you should stand and nod your head to me and say that you are pleased to meet me. And I would say and do the same thing.”

Harry stood and did as he was told. It went on from there, with various greetings and what to say. He tried to commit it all to memory. But it was a lot. And it felt pretty complicated. “I hope people will be forgiving when I forget half of this,” Harry said with a laugh.

“For a Muggleborn or Muggle-raised wizard or witch, most people will see it as trying to be polite and be quite forgiving. Especially considering that for the last generation or two, Muggleborns have not been polite,” Narcissa said. “You and Miss Granger have a lot of influence and will be looked upon more favorably when you are polite.”

“I can see how that might work,” Hermione said.

“Perhaps we should take a break and have some tea,” Narcissa suggested.

Ron and Harry nodded. Hermione didn’t look like she cared.

*****

After Tea

Narcissa cleared her throat. “I thought we would continue on with family magic, traditions, and things that most wizards and witches learn at home.”

“That sounds good, Lady Malfoy,” Harry said. “I have some questions about that, too.”

“We can address all of them after,” Narcissa said. “To begin with, I would like to start with a short explanation of what family magic is, and how it works.”

Narcissa paused and cleared her throat. “Simply put, family magic is a shared magical connection among family members. It creates a magical bond among family members, allowing them to be part of the whole. It is a sense of belonging that a family would share. It allows the family to share magical strength in times of need.”

“How do you mean sharing magic?” Harry asked. Because of course he’d never heard of anything like that.

“During any time that the family is threatened, the members can join together and pool their magic as it were, and together they are much stronger than just their individual magic,” Narcissa said.

“How does that work?” Hermione asked. “I mean, is there a spell or a potion or something that allows that kind of…what? I have never read or heard of anything like that. It sounds like an amazing tool that would keep people safe.”

“It would and does,” Narcissa agreed. “But it must be a strong family bond. Everyone must work together for it to be effective.”

Ron nodded.

And it did make some sense to Harry.

“The next thing I want to talk about with family magic is the authority of the head of the house. Usually the Lord of the family –”

“Sorry,” Harry interrupted. “At the Wizengamot meeting a couple of weeks ago, Pansy Parkinson was named not only Head of the House, but also the Lord.”

“That is correct. She now has the power to do as she pleases with the Parkinson name and resources. She has the right to enforce magical oaths on the members of the family. She controls all the wards on all the properties that the Parkinson’s own. She can change the lines of inheritance to be whatever she wants them to be.”

“Will she?” Hermione asked.

After having to defend her inheritance, Harry was sure she would.

“I suspect she will decree that her oldest child shall inherit the Lordship regardless of their gender,” Narcissa said. “I believe there are several families where that is true.”

“Our family,” Ron said. “The Weasleys, and the Prewetts, too.”

“Is that why they asked your mom if she was okay with Bill inheriting the Prewett Line?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, she is of the line, and could object, but she doesn’t want to be head of the family because she’d have to take the Prewett name back, and being head of a household is hard work.”

“Correct,” Narcissa said. “If you’re head of the house, you are required to bear the house name. That’s why you are both a Black and a Potter.”

For a second, they all digested that.

“Continuing on, families pass down specific magical abilities, such as Parseltongue, or a gift for potion making.” Narcissa nodded towards Harry. “A strong magical talent has to come from somewhere.” Narcissa paused and glanced at Hermione. “Nymphadora Tonks inherited the rare ability of a Metamorphmagus, which is a Black trait that hasn’t shown up in many generations. Veela traits are another magical enhancement.”

“How does one get their family magic?” Hermione asked. “And what about those that don’t have a magical family?”

“Miss Granger,” Narcissa started. “You might have a magical family that you have no idea about. I am going to assume you have never had a blood trace done?”

Hermione shook her head.

“You might consider that,” Narcissa suggested. “I cannot believe that someone who is as talented as you are reported to be does not have some magical lineage. As I have said, it has to come from somewhere.”

“How do I do that?” Hermione asked, looking more interested.

“You can request a blood trace from the Goblins. They will charge a nominal fee, maybe two or three galleons, and they will do it.”

“What’s involved?” Hermione sounded more curious than Harry had heard her in quite some time. And that pleased him no end.

“I am also curious,” Harry said.

“You cut your finger with a silver knife, and five drops of blood are spilled onto a magical parchment that the Goblins will give you. That should tell you everything about your lineage.”

“What about claiming your family magic?” Harry asked. “I got my titles, but I didn’t claim the family magic for either one of them.”

Narcissa looked surprised by that, and Harry quickly explained how he had come to have the titles.

“I’m surprised Mr. Weasley would not have you claim your magic at the same time,” Narcissa said.

“He never mentioned it,” Harry said. “I’m not sure how he missed that, except we were in a hurry since I was going to claim my seats on the Wizengamot. So, maybe that was it?” He glanced at Ron, who shrugged.

“I expect that it was possible,” Narcissa said. “Most people claim their family magic before they claim their Wizengamot seat.”

“Can you help me do it now?” Harry asked.

“I would be honored to help you,” Narcissa said. She tapped her wand on the tabletop, and a goblin knocked and then entered.

“How may Gringotts be of service to you, Lady Malfoy?” the guard said.

“Will you please have the Black and Potter ritual bowls and knives brought to the room?”

“Of course,” he said and bowed slightly before leaving. He returned a few minutes later with two bowls and knives. “Is there anything else?”

“After the meeting, we’d like to arrange a blood trace for Miss Granger, if that would be possible.”

“It would,” he said. “I’ll arrange it.”

“Thank you so much,” Narcissa said. After he had left, she turned to Harry. “Let’s do this at the table.”

Harry took a seat, and Hermione sat beside him, and Ron sat on his other side. “What do I do?” Harry asked.

“Cut your palm and let the blood drip into the bowl. Then swear on your life and your magic that you will uphold the family name and take on the family magic,” Narcissa said. “I would suggest doing the Potter magic first because there is no one left, and the magic will have weakened in the years since your parents died. The silver bowl is the Potter ritual bowl.”

“How can you tell?” Hermione asked.

“I recognize the Black Bowl and knife set by the black onyx stones encrusted on the side of the bowl,” Narcissa said.

“Is there something specific I should say?” Harry asked.

“No. Magic is about intent, so you must intend to take on the burden of your family magic as head of house.”

Harry did as he was told. He cut his palm and let it bleed into the bowl. He took a deep breath and said, “I, Harry James Potter, do solemnly swear on my life and my magic that I will uphold the Potter name and take on the family magic. So, I have sworn, so it must be.”

As he sat back, the feeling of being judged washed over him, but it was gone quickly. After it, there was a feeling of warmth and welcome. His family magic was overjoyed that he’d taken it. Harry wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it was not this feeling of belonging to all the Potters who came before him. It was a feeling he wanted to share with someone someday. But for now, this just felt so good.

“I see you feel it,” Hermione said. “What does it feel like?”

“Home,” Harry said. “Like I’m being welcomed home.”

Narcissa nodded. “The Black family magic will feel different, because there are several Blacks in it. Although quite a few less than there used to be.” She sounded sad about that.

Harry was, too. He closed his eyes for a second and then took a breath. He repeated the process again with the second knife and bowl, this time claiming the Black Family Magic. Narcissa had been right that the magic wasn’t quite the same. It did not feel as desperate or as overjoyed. But it was clear that it was happy to have him there. And he had definitely been judged worthy of being Head of the House of Black.

And Narcissa had been right about the name, too. He knew his name was now Potter-Black. He could live with that.

*****

After Harry had claimed his magic, Hermione turned to Narcissa. “In sixth year, Professor Slughorn asked me if I was related to Hector Dagwood-Granger, and I said no because I’d never heard of him. But now that I’ve thought about it, I wouldn’t really know, would I? Not without a test.”

“You are correct,” Narcissa said. “We are going to see to that after we finish here. We’re almost done. I hesitate to mention this last thing, because it will sound like a criticism, and it’s not, it is just what is in our society.”

Hermione looked at her. This was not going to be good. But after all the information she’d already given them, they could live with it. She met Harry’s eyes and then Ron’s eyes. They nodded. “Tell us, please. We won’t be offended.” She huffed a slight laugh. “Or we’ll try not to be.”

Narcissa smiled at that. “It is about the way you dress. Please take this in the way it was intended, but you both are dressed like Muggles. And while you are at school, that is not a problem, but once you are out in the greater wizarding society, it is in bad taste.”

That wasn’t what Hermione was expecting at all. “Why would it matter?” she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as she could.

“I understand that how you dress might not matter in the Muggle world, but the wizarding world is different. It has different standards –”

“She’s right,” Ron agreed. “I don’t pay any attention to it, but I know how I’m supposed to dress.” He sighed and held his hands out. “Have you ever seen even George, not dressed up, in the shop? I mean, when he’s not wearing a costume?”

Hermione thought about that, and she could see Harry doing the same. And George always wore trousers, a waistcoat, or a jacket. Usually with a pocket watch. “So, we are judged by how we dress.”

“Is that not true in the Muggle world as well?” Narcissa asked.

“It is,” Harry agreed. “But I think the standards are different here.”

“It is a different culture,” Narcissa said.

And that was the truth of it, Hermione realized. They needed to know all this information going in. When they were first years, because if they didn’t, they constantly made mistakes that they had no idea they’d made. “Can you give us some tips?” Hermione finally said. “On clothes, I mean.” Because Hermione would be the first to admit that choosing her clothes was not her strong suit.

“That is what I am here to do,” Narcissa smiled at her. “Witches wear robes or dresses. Wizards wear trousers with a button shirt and waistcoat or jacket. Also, with a robe. That should be a good start.”

“No slacks for women?” Hermione asked, looking down at her jeans.

“You might get away with it, if you wear a robe over it. But unless you have a profession that requires slacks, such as an Auror or even a medical professional, I would wear a skirt and nice blouse or a dress, and both with a day robe.”

“I’ll remember to dress correctly from now on,” Hermione said. Not pleased with that answer, but in many ways, Wizarding society was still in the Victorian times, and it probably wasn’t going to be her that changed that issue. So, she’d need to get with the program to be taken seriously. There were too many other changes that needed to be made regarding people’s and creatures’ rights that she wasn’t going to have the time or energy to tackle this one. “I need to go shopping, probably today.”

“I’m going to let you do that on your own,” Ron said with a snort. And Harry nodded, not even looking remotely apologetic.

“I would be happy to go with you, but perhaps tomorrow, if you’d like,” Narcissa offered.

Hermione hesitated. Did she really want to go shopping with Narcissa Malfoy? Even a reformed Narcissa Malfoy? Hermione considered it for a second. Well, Narcissa had been very helpful. She nodded. “Thank you. I can meet you in the alley after lunch?”

“That would be lovely,” Narcissa said, and it sounded like she meant it.

“Thank you,” Harry said, glancing at Narcissa. “I feel like I’ve learned more about the Wizarding World in the time I’ve been talking to you than in the entire six years I spent at Hogwarts.”

“I agree,” Hermione said. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. I believe this will benefit us all,” Narcissa said, standing. “We shall go to the proper office to have your blood trace done.”

*****

Narcissa led them to another room and knocked on the door. Another goblin that Hermione didn’t know answered and ushered them into the room. Harry had come with her, but Ron said he had a meeting about something. She didn’t know about what, and she hadn’t thought to ask when he mumbled it.

“I am Line Manager Bolendar,” the goblin said.

“I am Lord Harry Potter-Black,” Harry said with a slight nod of his head.

“I am Hermione Granger,” she said, also with a slight nod of her head.

“It is good to meet you both,” Bolendar said.

“It is good to see you, Line Manager Bolendar,” Narcissa said.

“And you as well, Lady Malfoy.” He waved them to the table, and there was a silver knife and parchment. “Miss Granger,” he said. “Please deposit five drops of blood onto the top of the parchment.”

Hermione took the knife and cut her finger, squeezing out the requisite number of drops. After the fifth one fell, the page started to turn colors, lines, and names spread out from her name to her parents’ names, to her grandparents, and outward. She saw immediately that her grandfather was a Dagwood-Granger, and his father was, in fact, Hector Dagwood-Granger. That wasn’t even the most shocking thing.

“Wow,” Harry said. “I can’t believe that.” He pointed to her grandmother’s name, Emily Nottingham, which had a sibling line to Theodore Nott Sr., which meant that Theodore Nott was her first cousin once removed. Which was something she could not even contemplate — not yet.

“Well, that is a surprise,” Narcissa said and glanced at Hermione. She cleared her throat. “Maybe we should deal with the Dagwood-Granger part first. That line was being held in abeyance for any magical heirs, and it doesn’t matter who they are. I mean male or female.”

“What does that mean for Hermione?” Harry asked.

“It means that she may claim the estate in full and the Wizengamot seat as well. She will be Lord of the House.”

Well, Hermione wasn’t expecting that, but she’d definitely take it. “I would like to do that.”

“You would follow the same process as Lord Potter-Black did to claim his family magic. You will be able to claim the seat at the next Wizengamot meeting, which is in August,” Narcissa said, and turned towards Bolendar. “Would you please bring the Dagwood-Granger ritual bowl and ceremonial knife so that Miss Granger can claim her family magic and title?”

“Of course, Lady Malfoy,” he said. And tapped his finger on the table twice. There was a knock on the door, and another goblin came in with a bowl that was encrusted with gems and a silver knife to match.

Hermione took the knife and cut her palm as Harry had done, letting the blood run into the cup. “I, Hermione Jane Granger, do swear on my life and my magic to defend and protect the Dagwood-Granger family and magic. So, I have sworn, so it must be.”

The magic reached out for her, judging her and embracing her. She’d never felt such a welcome in her life, and she could tell that she was judged worthy and that the magic was overjoyed to find her. Something inside her shifted. She wasn’t sure what, but it helped a little with the depression she’d been laboring under. It didn’t heal the problems, but it did act like a balm so that it was ever so slightly better.

She opened her eyes and smiled. “Wow. That was amazing. It was so welcoming.”

Harry smiled at her. “That’s what I felt.”

Before anything else could be said, there was a knock on the door. It startled everyone in the room.

“We asked that there be no interruptions,” Narcissa said.

Bolendar nodded, but he went to the door and spoke briefly with the goblin outside it. “I see,” he said. “I’ll ask.” He turned to them. “Lord Theodore Nott is in the bank and would like to speak to Miss Dagwood-Granger.”

“How does he even know about me yet?” Hermione asked.

“He is the last of his line. I suspect he was alerted to the new family member as soon as you were. I am surprised he acted as fast as he has,” Narcissa said.

“Does he know who it is? I mean, that it is me? A Muggleborn?” Hermione said.

“Technically, you’re a Half-blood, my dear,” Narcissa said, patting her hand. “And if you marry a Pureblood, your children will be Purebloods.”

Okay, she supposed that she couldn’t scoff at that possibility, because it would include marrying Ron. Which probably wasn’t going to happen, but, well, she needed to say something. “Um…I guess I should meet with Lord Nott.”

“Very good,” Narcissa said. “Do you wish me to stay with you?”

She glanced at Harry, and he nodded. “I’ll stay, Lady Malfoy. Thank you again for everything,” Harry said, sounding very sincere.

“Yes, Harry can stay with me,” Hermione said. “Thank you. I will see you at maybe 2:00 tomorrow afternoon?”

“That would be wonderful, Good day to you both,” Narcissa said and went out with Bolendar.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Hermione called, and looked at Harry, and he held out his hand to her. She took it as the door opened, and Lord Nott came in. He was wearing full wizarding robes, just as he was when she’d encountered him at school last week.

“Miss Granger,” Nott said and bowed slightly.

“Lord Nott,” she said, and bowed just as he had. “It’s Dagwood-Granger, now.”

“Of course, Miss Dagwood-Granger,” he said. “I had not heard that.”

“It literally just happened,” she said, with a smile.

Nott turned to Harry and nodded his head. “Lord Potter-Black.”

Harry nodded back. “Lord Nott. I’m going to assume you want to talk to Hermione?”

“I do. I am sure you both know why.” He glanced at Hermione. “I am thrilled that I have a cousin.”

“I am still the same Muggle-raised witch I was twenty minutes ago,” she said, coming right to the point. “Even if my circumstances have changed, I have not.”

“Nor would I expect you to. But we are closely related, and I would be honored to welcome you into my family magic.” He said that so sincerely and with so much emotion that Hermione believed him completely.

“I need to know what that would mean,” Hermione said after another second, when her brain had engaged further.

“Neither of us knows what that means,” Harry said.

“You have both accepted your family’s magic. It would be the same as that,” Nott said, with his brow furrowed, like he wasn’t sure what she was asking him.

“I mean, were I to accept your invitation into your family magic, would you be the lord of my house because I’m already going to be Lord of the Dagwood-Granger house. So, how would that work exactly?” Hermione explained.

And Harry nodded. “What power could you exert over Hermione should she accept?”

Nott was silent for a second or two, clearly thinking about the question. “If you were a minor, I could take custody of you as a close relative. Since you are an adult, I would be your head of house for the Nott family, but there’s nothing I could do to you for not doing what I want, except disowning you from it. There is no great threat in that since the Dagwood-Granger fortune is nearly as vast as mine.” He looked at her. “I could not touch anything to do with the Dagwood-Granger legacy because I am not of that bloodline. You, on the other hand, would be my heir and would inherit the entire Nott fortune should I die without children.”

Hermione took that in for a few seconds and then thought of something else that was important. “Do you have house elves?”

“Jobaba,” he called and then turned to Hermione with a slight smile, as if he knew what she was thinking. “If you have questions about that, you may ask my head house-elf yourself.”

An elf popped in. He was dressed in a miniature butler’s uniform. Black trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a black waistcoat with the Nott Crest on the pocket. He looked very sturdy and well, healthy. “You called me, Lord Nott?” he asked in perfect English.

“Yes. I am sorry to take you away from the manor. Miss Dagwood-Granger has some questions for you. Please answer them honestly.”

“Miss,” Jobaba said, blinking up at her, waiting. “What do you wish to know?”

“How are you treated?” she asked. “Are you paid?”

Jobaba winced. “We are treated very well, now. However, it would be an insult for a lord of our house to offer payment for our services.”

“So, you work without compensation?” Hermione could not believe that they would be treated that well, if they were uncompensated.

“Of course not,” Jobaba said, a tiny note of disapproval in his tone. “We thrive on the ambient magic available to use. And, of course, we have a generous hobby fund –”

“I’m sorry,” Harry choked. “What is a hobby fund?”

“We have hobbies, and they cost funds. A good lord will set up a fund so that we might never have to ask for supplies or whatever the hobby requires. This would also include lessons for new hobbies as well.”

“What are some of your hobbies, Jobaba?” Hermione asked, completely intrigued.

“I like to knit, crochet, and weave. I like to work with many kinds of fibers. I have done tapestries for the Manor, but mostly to decorate my quarters and the other elves’ quarters. When I run out of places to put them, I might sell them,” Jobaba said, sounding proud of his accomplishments. “I would put the funds back into the hobby fund.”

“You wouldn’t keep it?” Hermione asked.

“I have no use for funds beyond my hobbies. I live and work in the manor,” Jobaba said. “One of the other elves makes socks, so I also have socks in all the colors.” He lifted his pant leg to show beautifully knitted green socks. “Other elves have other hobbies. Some paint, some plant flowers, some just like to read books, and work on whatever crafty things please them. All of it requires funds, and they are available.”

“Have you ever been asked to punish yourself?” Harry asked, remembering Dobby.

Jobaba looked absolutely horrified. “Of course not. Only a bad master would ask that.”

She looked at Nott, who was looking kind of smug. “Jobaba, you can return to the manor if you want. Or would you want to pick up the cloth that Morgaine ordered? She said it should be in today, and was waiting for delivery, but if you are here now, she could have it to work on when she is ready.”

“Good thought, Lord Nott. We should keep the cook as happy as possible, or we will all be eating gruel,” Jobaba said with a laugh and popped away.

“I would never mistreat anyone. I spent too many years being mistreated and watching my father mistreat others, ever to do it to anyone else.” Nott looked like he hadn’t meant to say that.

Hermione sucked in a breath. “I am sorry.”

“I understand what that is like,” Harry said. “I spent most of my childhood like that.”

That Harry admitted that to a virtual stranger, shocked Hermione. What was going on here? She wondered.

Nott turned to look at him, shocked too. “I was not aware of that.”

“Most people don’t seem to realize I am Muggle-raised,” Harry said with a grimace. “By people who hated magic.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Nott looked at him. “This might be forward of me, but have you spoken to Doctor Cameron? He has been surprisingly helpful to me.”

Harry shook his head. “I never even thought about that. I know Hermione has found him helpful as well.”

“You might think about it, Harry,” Hermione said. “Just talking about it helps. Much more than I thought it would.”

“Just saying something like that out loud can be very freeing,” Nott agreed. He glanced at Hermione. “I would like to make you part of my family, part of my family magic.”

“I would like that,” Hermione agreed.

It was easily accomplished. Nott asked that the Nott family goblet and knife be retrieved from his vault. They each cut their palms, and when the magic settled, it felt like coming home. Different than the Dagwood Granger magic, but just as welcoming.

When it was done, she felt a connection to Nott now. “I’m not sure how this works here, but if we’re cousins, we should be on a first-name basis,” Hermione suggested.

Nott smiled at that. “That actually works, however you would prefer it to work. Please call me Theo.”

“Hermione,” she said. “No diminutives. Ever.”

“Of course not,” Nott agreed with a laugh. And then held out his hand to Harry. “You should call me Theo, as well.”

“Harry,” he said, shaking Nott’s…Theo’s hand. And smiling at him.

There was a slight blush on Nott’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “I would very much like to take you both out to dinner. I believe we should get to know each other.”

“I’d like that. Harry?” Hermione agreed and glanced at Harry.

Who looked surprised, but he smiled, too. “Sure. Why not?”

*****

 

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