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Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Return of Percy Weasley

"You lads are my new mates!"

The unnatural sight of the usually-surly Carlisle faces wreathed in smiles was extremely unnerving to Teddy; he fought the urge to back up, like Nate, in case they took offence.

"Erm, well," Teddy said uncertainly as the enormous Craig Carlisle slapped him on the back hard enough to make his teeth rattle in his head.

"No more Binns!" the younger Carlisle--Dirk--exclaimed loudly, next to Nate's ear. The Carlisles summoned everyone in the room to the portrait hole, where they heaped praise upon Teddy and Nate, causing some older students to congratulate the pair of them, which even included girls kissing them on the cheeks. Then Caroline Gibson and the other girls in their year came over, some of them also hugging Teddy and Nate. Nate's face was even redder than when the older girls had kissed him; Teddy felt his face grow hot when Caroline's lips brushed his cheek. Enika Fujita stood by bashfully, her cap of black hair brushing her cheeks as she smiled at them.

Nate finally said, "Oi! We appreciate this but we were going up to the Owlery and still need to go. We'll be back, we promise!" The crowd finally agreed to release them. As they walked upstairs, Nate said to Teddy, "So, you going to take Carlisle up on his offer? Be his best mate?" Nate grinned from ear to ear; he clearly didn't think that this was a risk.

"Erm, well, first off I doubt that I'll be letting him do my homework," Teddy said, grimacing. "I'd like to get passing marks, thanks."

"'Course you can't tell him that. You'll have to say... you don't want him to get in trouble if someone finds out. That's it. And then there's Craig's offer to smuggle us into the village for the next Hogsmeade weekend..."

"That's easy. Every Saturday I'll be in detention or in Durham. And in September we get to go to Hogsmeade without sneaking out. We won't owe him." That was the real reason the Carlisles made Teddy uneasy: he didn't like the idea of being in their debt. He sighed as they climbed more stairs. "They're not going to stop, are they? They're going to keep trying to do us favours," he groaned. "I think I liked it better when they were trying to get us expelled. I'm not sure what they'll come up with next as a--a--what would you call it?"

Nate looked thoughtful. "A gesture of friendship," he decided, then pursed his lips. "You've got a point."

"And then there's Caroline..."

Nate grinned at him. "Poor Ickle Teddy. Hottest girl in our year coming after you. Whatever will you do?"

Teddy swallowed, picturing Enika sitting on the other side of the common room, reading, always looking in his direction whenever he seemed to be looking in hers...

"Good question," Teddy said, not happy about Caroline. She's pretty, he thought, but she's not the sort of girl who... He couldn't put it into words even in his head. Any boy in his right mind would fancy Caroline. She always looked flawless; she even made Hogwarts robes look fashionable. (Something about the way she made hers drape.) He never knew what to say to her, whereas he had had more than one conversation with Enika, nice ones...

"I noticed Liza hanging all over you," Teddy said, to shift Nate's attention.

Nate snorted. "She'll forget about that tomorrow. I'm not falling for that anymore..."

"What, the I-forgot-to-bring-my-Transfiguration-homework-and-could-I-use-yours thing?" Teddy couldn't help grinning.

Nate sighed. "And the oh-I-forgot-to-bring-my-Charms-essay song and dance and the one for Herbology..."

Teddy laughed as they reached the Owlery. "I didn't know about Herbology. How many times did you fall for that?"

Nate stopped, his hand on the door. "Only three times, but it was three times too many. Don't rub it in. I feel like an idiot. I kept hoping that she'd be nice about it after... Probably had a good laugh about it."

Teddy felt more cheerful as he entered the Owlery but stopped abruptly when he saw Donna sitting in the dirty straw she'd banked against a cold stone wall, rolling up a piece of parchment as tears rolled down her rather blotchy face. "Donna! What's wrong?"

Her thick glasses were in her lap; without them she looked like a different person. She raised shining eyes to them, running her sleeve over her face to dry her tears. "You don't expect me to stay here if the pair of you are leaving, do you? It's not like I have any other friends, not really. Caroline, Olivia and Liza have seen to that..."

"What?" Nate said, clearly confused.

Donna gave a great sniff. "I'm writing to my mum to tell her that we should see the headmistress at my sister's school during the holiday so that I can go there when the new term starts... There must be something Professor McGonagall can do to convince her that I've been going to a proper school..."

Nate dropped his jaw. Teddy shook his head at him, frowning, but Nate ignored him. "Have you been hit by a stupid stick?" Nate demanded; Teddy hit his arm, since it would be harder for him to ignore that.

Donna started coughing. "What?" was all she could croak when she regained her voice.

"What Nate is trying to say," Teddy told her, glaring at him, "is that we weren't expelled. We've got loads of detention but she didn't kick us out."

Donna put her glasses on. "You're serious? You're not leaving?"

She scrambled to her feet, but before she came near Nate was backing toward the door. "No more hugs!" he said, looking at her with trepidation.

"Nate!" Teddy said, chastising him. "Have you been hit by a rudeness stick?"

"I--I just meant--Carlisle, erm, doesn't know his own strength..."

Donna snorted in laughter. "Carlisle! Ickle Natie got a hug from Carlisle... Which one?" she added between snorts.

Nate grimaced. "Does it matter?"

"Well, should I be singing Dirkie and Natie, sitting in a tree, or Craiggy and Natie, sitting in a tree?"

"Shut up," Nate growled at her.

"Can't you take a joke?" she asked, laughing.

"Maybe you should go back to Muggle school, so we wouldn't have to put up with you!" he snarled, turning on his heel and slamming the Owlery door behind him.

Teddy and Donna looked at the door. "He's just--well, you know. We thought we were going to be expelled and now we've got detention until we go home again in June," Teddy tried to explain, even though he wasn't sure what he was saying.

Donna shook her head. "He's cross with me. Because I didn't get detention."

Teddy frowned; Nate hadn't said anything about this and he realised that his words had given her that impression. "No it's not..."

"Then, what?" she demanded. Teddy shook his head dumbly, unable to put his suspicions into words. Donna went on, "I didn't get caught. I'm not having months of detention. Didn't they ask who else did it? Don't they know anything? They should have known--"

"They didn't ask. I'm glad you didn't get caught," he told her earnestly.

Donna looked at him suspiciously. "Are you certain? After your sisters and Nate's brother came up with the idea in the first place, you two didn't want to do it. I talked you into it!" She sighed and ducked her head. "No wonder he's upset. It's all my fault..."

Teddy rolled his eyes. "Stop it! You didn't hold a gun to our heads. We wanted to--" He stopped abruptly, remembering what Professor McGonagall had said. "Bloody hell, Donna!" he breathed softly, the shock hitting him. "It--it worked."

"Of course it worked. That's why you and Nate got into trouble..."

"No, I mean--my mum might actually come here to teach. But not History."

"Huh?" She took off her glasses again to clean them on her robes, looking disoriented as she squinted at him. As he explained it to her she started grinning.

"That's fantastic! Listen--a Muggle Studies teacher isn't just going to fall into McGonagall's lap during the Easter holiday. During the summer one might, if she looks. But even if she does hire someone else for September, at least during the summer term you'll get to see your mum more often!"

"And so will Professor Snape," he added quietly. He'd known Snape for nearly two years and while he was initially shocked at the idea of his teacher going out with his mother, it was, in some ways, less shocking than learning that Harry Potter was his father. He'd never liked his mother going out when he was younger but he was working on getting over that. His mum deserved to be happy. He couldn't very well talk about any misgivings around Nate, however, who'd wanted Snape to be his stepfather when he was younger and thought that Teddy would, of course, feel the same.

"Can't believe it worked!" Nate whispered excitedly while they got ready for bed that night. "Your mum and Severus will be able to spend more time together... And Julian will be over the moon if..." he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "So if he becomes your stepbrother, I'll get to come visit you whenever he does and it'll be nearly like I'm your brother, too..."

"If I'm not visiting my dad," Teddy cautioned him, climbing into his bed.

Nate shrugged. "Speaking of which... Donna and I can still visit you in Durham during the holiday, right?"

"I reckon. I'm going home first, then to St Clare's Chapel."

Nate grinned. "Bet your sisters'll be thrilled about the plan working."

Teddy hadn't thought about this. "Yeah, probably."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Eeeeeeeeee!"

Teddy failed to anticipate the excited squealing that took place when he saw his sisters during the holiday. They did it every time they were in the house alone with Teddy, always waiting until Harry and Ginny were doing something like taking Charlotte to meet Nate and Donna at the train station. He felt like he would go spare. "Shut up, will you?" he begged, his hands over his ears as the girls bounced up and down in a circle, squealing. He finally lost it.

"That's it. Up to your room. I can't take any more. Half an hour in your room, now, and no squealing when you get out. I mean it; I'll carry you if I have to," he growled.

Giggling madly, they put their heads together, looking at him while they whispered.

He didn't like the looks of that at all. "On second thought--you go to your mum and dad's room, Rory, and you go to your own room, Ruby. Don't touch anything in their room, Rory, or they'll know, and they won't blame me. Go on!"

He envied Nate, with his one little brother, sighing as the girls went up the two diverging staircases to the church's former balconies, which housed Harry and Ginny's bedroom and bathroom on one side, plus a nursery for Charlotte, and the twins' and Teddy's bedrooms and bathroom on the other. The choir loft, still with the old organ and pipes, functioned as a library and separated the bedrooms.

Having had piano lessons when he was younger (dropping them when he grew bored), Teddy had the sudden urge to try the organ while the girls cooled off. Only one register worked and the noises the pipes emitted were unpredictable; when he played a scale it sounded like a random selection of deep and high notes. Giving up on the organ, he settled in an armchair, the Crup at his feet, with a random book from the library shelves: The Dark Lord's Fall, which turned out to be about Harry. After reading a little about his father being the Second Coming he abandoned the book and found some Quidditch magazines; the players flew about in the pictures, demonstrating the moves being described. While he was reading the magazines the time passed quickly and he didn't realise that the half-hour had stretched into an hour; when he looked at his watch he wondered whether the girls had fallen asleep.

Deciding that they'd been punished enough, he went to get them. He didn't usually mind his little sisters and mostly found them amusing. If his mum came to teach at Hogwarts it would be to due to them. He just wished they wouldn't squeal.

Going to Harry and Ginny's room first, he found it empty. He looked around quickly; an indentation on the bed showed where Rory had probably been sitting. She wasn't in the adjoining bath, either.

Probably went back to their room, he thought. He didn't mind that he hadn't known; they'd at least been quiet. He was starting to feel restless, though, itching to try some of the moves he'd seen in the magazines. Harry and Ginny allowed them to fly--very carefully--around the huge old sanctuary that held the drawing room/dining room, above which there were no rooms. They had to mind the sloped ceiling on the sides and avoid the chimney, but that was part of the challenge. And the trusses were very convenient for sitting on, to rest. Harry and Ginny flew with them sometimes; when Harry gave Teddy his broom the previous summer, so he could try out for the Gryffindor team, he hadn't been able to wait to see Teddy fly and wanted to show him some tricks and moves he thought might help him. Soon the five of them were flitting around the enormous space while Charlotte gazed up at them, clapping her hands. (The twins had been flying for years.)

Teddy smiled so much that day that his face actually hurt. He didn't learn until Ginny and the girls gave him presents that Harry had given Teddy the broom on his own birthday, making Teddy feel guilty that he didn't have a gift. When he'd apologised to Harry at bedtime, Harry had suddenly hugged him, backing up quickly, looking embarrassed and saying, "Seeing you fly your new broom... That was my gift."

Teddy had found it very hard to resent him or even dislike him after that. His Durham visits were becoming less awkward to the point that Harry and Ginny even occasionally asked him to babysit the twins, paying him handsomely (in his choice of Muggle or wizarding money). This was Ginny's idea, since she said that her older brothers had never been paid for watching her and Ron and she didn't think it fair to just expect this of an older sibling. He was glad that they'd taken Charlotte with them, though; he liked her but didn't fancy changing nappies.

"Rory!" he called when he emerged from Harry and Ginny's bedroom.

"What?" came a distraught, teary reply from the girls' room. He found her sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed, arms wrapped around her knees while she rocked back and forth, crying; where she'd had her face against her jeans the fabric was wet.

He ran to her, going to his knees. "What's wrong?"

She pointed mutely at the leaded casement window above the beds; it was wide open. He looked back at her. "What? Did Ruby fly out the window?"

She shook her head, pointing at the two smallish brooms leaning in the corner. After hiccoughing and attempting to swallow, she choked out, "Gone. Looked. Everywhere. Window. Wasn't. Open. Before. Someone. Must. Have..."

Damn. He went to the window, remembering a conversation between Harry and Ginny that he'd overhead on his first visit; it was about whether they needed to continue to keep anti-Apparation jinxes on the house and grounds. Harry insisted that they did, not giving Ginny a reason. This is the reason, he thought.

Teddy stared out of the window, his heart in his throat. All that he could see was the road to Barnard Castle and the old overgrown graveyard, grey stones thrusting up through the tall grass and waving wildflowers. There was no sign of Ruby anywhere.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Draco paced the drawing room restlessly while Narcissa tried to calm him. He hated the desolation of the once-elegant house. He'd pictured it in his cell as it used to be, an appropriate home for a family of their blood, money and (former) stature. Now it appeared to have been abandoned after war refugees had hastily fled. It certainly didn't feel like home. There weren't even any elves to wait on them; they'd become too expensive. What was the world coming to? His mother also said that they were a security risk. It was illegal to put loyalty and confidentiality charms on them now; they were already breaking the law by getting Draco out of prison and didn't need to draw attention to themselves unnecessarily. Blaise had also fired his elves.

"Draco, you wouldn't be free if it weren't for Blaise," she said, trying to placate him. "No one is the wiser. There's been nothing about a prison break on the Wireless or in the Prophet. No one from the Ministry has contacted me or Blaise. Nothing. As far as they know that's you in the cell. They're clueless. We did it!" Her smile was anything but infectious, however.

"I don't like being cooped up," Draco whinged, kicking a battered ottoman he could have sworn used to be in the attic. "I've been cooped up for ten years. Is the new batch of potion ready yet? How could you use so much to get me out of prison and to go to Gibraltar for my wand? And why can't I break it in by getting the information we need? I don't care if he's a blithering vegetable. Getting revenge on the Weasleys is part of the point."

"If he becomes, as you say, a 'blithering vegetable' before we learn what we need it could be difficult for you to impersonate him. Unfortunately, your father put the memory charm on him and only he could remove it safely, without damaging--"

"The Dark Lord never cared about 'damaging' anyone. Dad told me. Sounds like it would be fun. If Zabini wants to make me the next Dark Lord he could listen to me. I might as well be in prison yet--he does whatever he pleases. Who's in charge?"

"He does not do 'whatever he pleases.' He's buying Boomslang skin from a source that can't be traced to us. At any rate, Blaise was telling me this morning--"

"...in bed, very likely," Draco muttered darkly, still pacing restlessly.

"--that he had found a way around the memory problem. It's another potion. He's supposed to meet someone in Knockturn Alley--"

"Another potion?" He slammed his fist onto the marble mantel; he had a feeling that if his mother couldn't think of a way to get money other than sleeping with Zabini the mantel would be next to go. She'd have it ripped off the wall and shipped off to some Muggle antique shop. "Or is this another way to stall? Are you positive Zabini isn't just--just using you?"

His mother laughed, unnerving him. He'd always avoided making her laugh because she made such a disturbing noise. She no longer seemed quite herself and he didn't want to subject himself to the sound if he didn't have to.

"Of course he's using me. He knows that I'm using him as well. It goes both ways. I used him to get you out of prison, didn't I?"

"I'm out. End of story. Can't we send him packing?"

"Stop whinging, Draco. In good time. Do you want him to go to the Ministry? Now, I'm still not convinced about this spell, but there's no harm in letting him continue to look. If he finds it, think of the possibilities..."

"But what's the point of me pretending to be Weasley? And getting this other potion? Why can't we live in Gibraltar, or anywhere else? I like Gibraltar," he said, a whine creeping into his voice again. "It's warm." He took out his wand. "And I like having a wand again. Can I test it by torturing our prisoner? Or Zabini?"

"No, you cannot. Have patience. Even if we don't find the spell you can still avenge your father. Or you could be the next Dark Lord..."

Draco grimaced and shrugged. "Maybe. Can't we just kill the kids and go live in Gibraltar? Being a Dark Lord sounds like--"

"--work? That's what Blaise is for, darling. The work."

Draco tapped his wand on the marble mantel, idly changing it from a rosy colour to grey to white to green. "Yeah, which makes me wonder... Why isn't he interested in being a great Dark Lord himself and getting someone else to do the work?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Harry turned off the car and got out, going to the boot to get the bags while Ginny removed Charlotte from her seat with Donna's help. Nate took his bag plus Donna's and they entered the house in a disorganised, laughing crowd, dropping the bags on the entry's stone flags while Hades leaped about them, barking excitedly.

"We're home!" Harry called as he threw himself into his favourite chair by the fire. Nate had visited St Claire's before; he made himself at home in a chair on the other side of the fire and Hades jumped onto his lap, while Donna looked around with wide eyes.

"You have such a cool house, Professor Weasley," she said to Ginny.

"Thank you, Donna. Although... during the holiday, I think it would be all right to call me Ginny. I'm only 'professor' at Hogwarts. Teddy calls me Ginny; there's no reason for you not to do the same." Donna looked at her in grateful surprise, as though she thought that Ginny was pretty 'cool' herself for suggesting this. Ginny put Charlotte on the rug and gave her a basket of blocks; Charlotte started banging them together quite happily and Donna sank onto the floor beside her.

"What do you want to build, Charlotte? A tower?" she asked in a soft sing-song.

Ginny smiled at them for a moment before walking up the three shallow steps to the platform where the kitchen overlooked the dining room. "We thought chicken kebabs for dinner. That suit you, Donna? Nate?"

The only answer she received was a choked sob from above; Ginny stared up at the door to the girls' room, which was open. Harry leapt to his feet and also stared up. Donna and Nate looked at each other uncertainly. Charlotte had crawled into Donna's lap and was using her legs and chest like a toddler-sized chair, still banging blocks together; Donna put her arms around Charlotte protectively while Harry and Ginny raced up the stairs, Harry in the lead.

They found Rory sitting on the bed, her face tear-stained, and Teddy pacing the floor, his face very white, running his hands through his hair. Harry was about to ask what was going on when he noticed the open window; he swore under his breath.

"Bloody hell. Not again."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Narcissa sighed. "Be grateful that you're out of prison, Draco. And think about how satisfying it will be to pull the wool over the Weasleys' eyes, and the Potters'..."

He nodded. "All right, all right. But why do we have to let him wander about?"

"He can't get out. Don't worry. He doesn't even want to. He doesn't remember being a wizard, either. He's been quite helpful. Thinks he works here. Rather a good butler, in fact, now that we have no elves."

She rang a bell; a moment later a tall, thin man with red hair and glasses appeared in the doorway. "Yes, ma'am?" he said, giving her a small, formal bow.

"Weatherby, please serve breakfast to Draco in the dining room."

"Yes, ma'am," he said again. After giving her another bow he left.

Narcissa smiled. "And for now, we have the satisfaction of ordering him around..."

Draco hoped she wouldn't start laughing again; he suppressed his own smile. "But when the potion is done I'll look like that when I go out."

"You will, however, be able to go out. Look on the bright side."

He sighed. "The bright side." He still didn't like the convoluted plans Zabini harboured; he didn't trust him. He missed his mates, Crabbe and Goyle. He also didn't fancy 'becoming' Percy Weasley just so that he could be the next great Dark Lord. There had to be a better way. But he took the path of least resistance for the moment and went to the dining room to eat his breakfast, drawing some satisfaction from the fact that the former Head Boy was waiting on him, pulling on his forelock and toadying like a Muggle servant afraid of being turned out without references.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Teddy looked at his dad, incredulous. "What did you say?"

Ginny glared at Rory, her hands on her hips and her face very stern. "Aurora Potter, how dare you!"

Teddy looked back and forth between his stepmother and sister in utter confusion. "How dare she? What are you talking about?" He paused, taking a deep breath. "It's--it's all my fault, Ginny. I--I sent Ruby to her room and Rory to yours, to separate them, and when I was going to tell them that they could come out again--"

"Quiet," Harry hissed suddenly; Teddy froze, thinking that Harry and Ginny were the strangest parents ever. Harry closed his eyes and seemed to be meditating; when his eyes opened again it was so sudden that it jolted Teddy. Harry looked fiercely around the room, his gaze resting on the wardrobe. He strode to it in a trice.

"I looked there," Teddy said, gulping and trying not to cry. I'm nearly thirteen, he reminded himself. On the other hand, he'd never before felt responsible for his nine-year-old sister disappearing. He'd never known that it was possible to feel this terrible.

Harry pulled the wardrobe door open and rustled the clothes about before pulling out--nothing. Nothing that Teddy could see, anyway, and yet he could tell that Harry held something that squirmed and shifted in his grip. Finally, Harry grasped what seemed to be air and pulled. A silvery cloth fell to the floor and Ruby appeared, her hair tousled and her eyes wide with fright.

"It was just a joke, Dad! Honestly!" Ruby whined as he dragged her to the bed and made her sit next to her sister; Rory's tears had dried and she too looked frightened.

Ginny and Harry were livid. "You are to apologise to your brother now," Ginny said in a low voice. Teddy looked at them in shock while Harry folded up the silvery cloth. Rory actually looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"Sorry, Teddy," they said in unison.

"This is no laughing matter, Rory!" Ginny informed her, taking her daughter's hand away from her mouth so that she could not cover up her smile. "It was bad enough that you pretended to know nothing of this the last time--"

"Last time?" Teddy echoed, unable to help himself.

"Yes," Ginny snapped, turning to him. Shaking herself, she said, "Sorry," in a kinder tone. "Harry was out with Ron and Hermione; I was all alone. I called Harry to come back and that's when we finally found Ruby. Harry worked out that Rory was playing the role of the distraught sister and was in on it all along," she added, glaring at Rory, who appeared to be trying to become part of the flowered pattern on the duvet.

"But--how did he work that out? And how did he find her just now?"

Harry put his arm around Teddy's shoulders and steered him toward the door. "Never mind. We're very sorry that the girls did this and we'll be giving them a talking-to now. Dinner will be a little late, I'm afraid." He turned and fixed the twins with an ominous glare. "And some people will not be having dinner."

Teddy returned to the drawing room, where Nate and Donna were waiting for him. "What on earth happened?" Donna wanted to know; she was holding Charlotte, the chubby little arms around her neck.

Teddy grimaced, eyeing Charlotte and wondering what mischief she'd be cooking up in a few years. "Little sisters, that's what happened."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tilda Harrison nodded discreetly to Severus Snape in the entrance hall as he turned to descend the stairs to his dungeon. She began to climb the marble stairs, a bounce in her step. Her good mood was partly due to the lovely breakfast she'd just had, during which she was able to see Teddy smiling and laughing with his friends, plus she and Severus were able to sit beside each other at the head table and quietly discuss plans for the weekend. Her cheerful mood was also partly due to her first day of teaching at Hogwarts being a complete success. The students were thrilled to have a Muggle teaching them about how Muggles actually lived and they were all very nice to her. (She had taught only in the afternoon: the sixth years and the fifth years.)

She had been marvelling how very polite and well-mannered magical children were when she'd been eating her dinner beside Severus the previous evening; he'd made a sceptical noise, continuing to chew. She'd laughed and said that it helped that her students didn't attend their lessons in a dungeon; it probably made them better-tempered. He'd made another sceptical noise but she hadn't let him ruin her enthusiasm for her new job.

The students did it for her.

She opened the classroom door and stared around in shock; it was empty. The polished wood floor stretched away before her, pale marks showing where the bookcases and teacher's desk had stood, previously unmoved, for decades, possibly even centuries. Then she looked up.

Each student sat at his or her desk, spines straight against the backs of the chairs, hands folded on the desks, their texts, parchment and quills at the ready. Girls with long hair even had it flowing down their backs still. Which was odd, because every last piece of furniture had been magically attached to the ceiling of the room and every student was sitting upside down in his or her seat, every hair in place as though they were not defying gravity. Every book, quill and parchment followed suit, clinging to the desks as though glued there.

Tilda Harrison covered her eyes with her hands, sighing. Collecting herself, she walked to the blackboard, where the law of gravity was still functioning properly; pieces of chalk sat peacefully in the tray, showing no signs of wanting to be on the ceiling. She behaved as though everything were perfectly normal as she wrote notes on the board. When she was done she faced the class, tipping her head back to look up at them.

"First--every one of you is to report to Mr Filch for detention tonight, eight o'clock sharp. Second--anyone who gets a drop of ink on this floor will receive another detention for each drop, understood? If you can magically attach yourselves to the ceiling you can bloody well keep your ink where it belongs. No excuses."

And she taught the entire lesson from the floor while the students sat on the ceiling, although she noticed a few of them rubbing the backs of their necks as though they were in a bit of pain from the angle that they had to force their necks into in order to look at the blackboard (since the writing was upside-down to them).

Luckily, she did not have to teach another lesson until the afternoon; when the bell rang, she told them, "I'm going to the staff room and shall notify Mr Filch of your detentions. I expect every piece of furniture to be on the floor when I return and each of you is to write a two-foot long essay entitled, 'Why it is Rude to Sit on the Ceiling While your Teacher Stands on the Floor.'"

She turned on her heel and left the room, her heart beating very fast and her mind racing with fury. They're testing me, she tried to tell herself as she strode through the corridors, fuming. At the staff room door she couldn't remember the password.

"Um," she hedged; "Euphrates. Epicurius. Elephantes. Euphrates..."

"You said that. All wrong. Try again," the gargoyle sneered, leering nastily at her. She wanted to take the mace from the suit of armour standing nearby and smash the ugly stone carving to bits. Just when she was feeling like her willpower had been exhausted and she would grab the mace, the door opened and Harry and Ginny emerged.

"Is everything all right, Tilda?" Ginny asked; Tilda knew that she probably looked murderous. She felt murderous.

"I--I just couldn't remember the password," she managed to say through gritted teeth. "I know it begins with an E, and I could have sworn Euphrates would do it..."

"Oh, that. It's Eridanus. But you weren't far off with Euphrates. They're both rivers," Ginny said brightly, as though determined not to be unnerved by Tilda's demeanour. "Of course one's also a constellation..." she added awkwardly, looking back and forth between Tilda and her husband, then frowning at Harry.

Harry's arms were crossed and he looked rather smug and superior. "What happened?" he asked in a mock-innocent voice, as though expecting something to happen. Tilda explained the students-on-the-ceiling problem as calmly as she could. Harry's smirk grew as he listened. She wanted to slap it off his face. "Not as easy as you thought it would be, is it?" Harry said when she was done. "When you were teaching me I was the only magical kid in the school, and when I performed any magic it was accidental..."

"Oh, shut up, Harry!" she snapped at him, turning to the gargoyle and shouting, "Eridanus! Are you bloody happy now?"

As she stormed into the staff room she heard Harry behind her, asking Ginny, "What did I say?" with complete innocence in his voice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blaise grinned at Draco's shock. "Well, you said you missed your mates. Don't say I never did anything for you. Other than getting you out of prison, of course." Draco shook Crabbe's and Goyle's hands, feeling like things were finally looking up. They talked for a while about what they'd been up to, but Blaise cut it short, saying, "The reunion is fantastic, lads, but we have work before us. I've offered jobs to Crabbe and Goyle. They're quite interested in being in the inner circle of the next Dark Lord."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "We're ready for an inner circle?"

Blaise shrugged. "When the potion is ready you'll need to have all of the information in your brain to successfully pretend to be someone else and you'll need more than one person helping you to keep up the act. Better someone you already know and trust than new faces, don't you think?"

Draco nodded at Blaise and his friends. "So we're ready to start grilling him?"

"Yeah--after a little experimentation, to make sure this will work."

Draco frowned. "Experimentation?"

Blaise smiled ingratiatingly at Crabbe and Goyle, then pulled out his wand and pointed it at them both, saying, "Obliviate!" Draco was startled.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded of Blaise, who displayed extreme unconcern for the glazed-over expressions on Crabbe's and Goyle's faces.

"We need to test whether the extra-strong Veritaserum will truly bring out memories that have been suppressed through a memory charm. I've only erased their very recent memories--a few minutes at most. Your dad erased a man's entire lifetime. We have our job cut out for us. We need help and help has come," he said, waving his hand at the disoriented Crabbe and Goyle.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After Tilda wrote a tersely-worded note to Filch about the detentions she tried to relax with a cup of tea (the teapot in the middle of the large staff room table constantly replenished itself). Someone had also left a copy of The Daily Prophet on the table but she finally had to put it down, giving up on anything in it feeling remotely normal to her. Even the adverts were very, very odd:

Spellwork Lost Its Fizz?
Charms Gone Stale and Droopy?
Then you need...
MAGI-ME-MORE!
Losing power and concentration as you grow older?
Roll back the years with Magi-me-More.
One daily pill and you will be transfiguring like a wizard of twenty!
Healer's warning:
side effects include dizziness, vomiting and tusks.

She felt like the newspaper itself should have had warnings about dizziness; she felt a bit lightheaded just from watching the words of the advert flash across the page, multi-coloured stars and fireworks exploding behind the name of the product. At least reading the paper probably won't make me vomit or give me tusks, she thought ruefully. Probably. On second thought she decided not to push her luck...

She had noticed with interest that Hermione Granger was back at work after having her baby--Teddy told her that Hermione and her husband had come to Easter dinner in Durham--and had placed an advert in the classified section to find work for some house-elves who had recently been released from employment by very old wizarding families, one of which she thought she recognised... Perhaps it's a name from this morning's register? Moving photographs of the elves were included.

She tried reading through more of the text for the Muggle Studies course, which she hadn't gone through completely during the Easter holiday; the author had many strange misconceptions about Muggles and she wondered whether the wizard who'd written it had ever met a Muggle after she'd read several chapters that were supposed to be about the late twentieth century. (The earlier chapters were more about the historic split between Muggles and wizards.) She didn't notice the time until the bell rang for lunch.

Tilda also didn't realise how hungry she was until then; she left the staff room, giving the gargoyle a glare as she passed, and walked right into a tall girl clutching a lot of books and parchments to her chest, causing her to drop her belongings to the floor. Tilda immediately went into a crouch beside the girl, helping her to pick up her things again, thinking at the same time that the girl looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't see you," she apologised as she handed the girl a Dark Arts text and a Transfiguration book; the girl immediately looked stricken with guilt.

"Oh, don't say you're sorry! I'm the one who should be apologising to you after--after that dreadful prank we played this morning..."

She stood again, clutching the precarious collection awkwardly; Tilda gently took a few of the parchment rolls from her that were threatening to get away again. "Here, let me carry these. I'm going down for lunch now, are you?"

The girl nodded, still looking quite abashed. Tilda glanced at her glossy brown hair, remembering a girl who was sitting halfway back in the upside-down class that morning, her long hair flowing down--or up--her back. As they walked together down the stairs, Tilda said gently to her, "I'm going to be just fine. It isn't as though any of you put a spell on me. But I really can't have disruptions of that sort when I'm teaching a lesson, let alone such a display of disrespect, so--"

"Oh!" the girl said quickly. "I'm not trying to get out of my detention! It's no more than we all deserve..." Tilda was concerned; the girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Tilda patted her arm. "There, there. We'll start fresh next time. I don't remember your name; I just read the registry without really noticing who was responding..."

"Jessica. Jessica Sommers. Is it true that you taught at a primary school?"

Tilda smiled at her. "For years and years. So I'm not exactly new to the classroom."

Jessica nodded. "I feel so ashamed... I should have talked the others out of it..."

"I told you already, I'll be fine..."

"But see--my dad's a teacher. If he knew I'd done something like this he'd have my head. He's the history master at his school. Down in Wiltshire." They began going down the marble stairs leading to the entrance hall as Jessica sighed. "It's bad enough that he thinks I'm utterly dim. At least I've always behaved in school..."

Tilda stopped dead. "Why should he think you dim? Did he say that? That's dreadful!" The girl seemed to be perfectly articulate and intelligent, even though she'd had the bad judgment to be overly influenced by her peers (none of whom had joined her in apologising, Tilda noted).

"Oh, no, not as such... It's just that I write dreadful essays. I have a mental block about it. I can never remember the rules for spelling certain words, I always mix up my verb tenses... I'm awful at it and whenever I ask Dad for help it seems to end in a row..."

"...because you can't do what he finds perfectly natural?" Tilda finished for her, feeling a horrible anger toward the intolerant history master father. Jessica nodded.

"So, I was wondering... I know we were horrid to you, but--but I have this History essay that Professor Borodin assigned yesterday. He taught Muggle Studies before you. He hates my essays. Gives me rubbish marks on all of them. So far I've only managed to pass Muggle Studies by knowing a load of things during the oral exam--mostly because I'm Muggle-born, which isn't an advantage in History of Magic. Anyway, I was wondering whether you could--well, whether you had any time to help me a bit with my writing," she finished quickly, as though afraid that she lacked the nerve if she didn't blurt it out. "No one teaches that here, we're just expected to be fine with producing essay after essay. And most of the teachers aren't strict about spelling and grammar, but Professor Borodin is--"

Tilda stopped just as they were entering the Great Hall. "Of course I can help you! Why don't we both get some sandwiches and something to drink; we can go back up to the staff room and see what you've got so far. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think, and even if it is--well, don't worry about that now. Stop fretting; it'll be all right, yeah?" She patted the girl's shoulder reassuringly and was rewarded with a wavery smile.

"Thank you, Professor. I know I've no right to ask for a favour after this morning..."

"Oh, rubbish. You need help and no one else is offering, are they? I don't teach very many lessons, after all. I only do half as many as Professor Nott and I don't need to take care of all of the creatures living here at the school like Professor Grubbly-Plank. Frankly, I've been wondering what I'm going to do when I'm not teaching and marking assignments. So--first sandwiches and then to work, all right?"

Jessica smiled broadly. "Thank you! Oh, look, there's ham and cheese today..."

Tilda walked with her to the Hufflepuff table, where they selected some food. She nodded briefly to Severus on the way and he nodded back from his seat at the high table. Taking it upon herself to carry their food when it became clear that Jessica couldn't add this to her current burden, they walked back upstairs. Jessica's chattering was now less inhibited and Tilda thought, Perhaps there's a place for me here after all...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"When did you first meet Penelope Clearwater?"

Percy Weasley seemed to be staring into space but he answered Draco automatically, "The first day of my third year. Ancient Runes. She asked to borrow a quill."

"When did you start going out?" Draco Malfoy asked him.

"First Hogsmeade weekend of my fifth year. We had lunch at The Three Broomsticks."

"Did she let you kiss her?"

"We snogged behind Honeydukes for half an hour. We were told off by Filch for being late getting back."

Draco grinned lasciviously at Crabbe and Goyle. "So much for the angelic former Head Boy," he said in an aside to his friends. He knew that they were enjoying listening to the interrogation after the weeks of "experimentation" they'd gone through. The only flaw they'd detected in the plan was that after Crabbe and Goyle had answered questions about things that had been erased from their memories, having given the answers to the questions they immediately regained the memories and would have needed to be obliviated again to forget the experience of being interrogated.

They didn't want Percy Weasley to remember being interrogated; as 'Weatherby,' he was unlikely to run away or attempt to contact anyone outside the house. Overall, the possibility of Percy regaining his memories was worrisome to Blaise and he regretted that he would have to layer memory charm upon memory charm; he was afraid that eventually he'd be unable to extract any information from him at all. He also knew that a Percy Weasley aware of his true identity and history was a dangerous Percy Weasley.

"When did you and Penelope Clearwater first shag?" Draco asked him, a leer on his face.

"Sixth year. We met down in the dungeons. Afterward I ran into your friends; Crabbe asked me what I was doing down there and I was afraid they'd guessed that I'd been meeting Penelope, since she'd left before me and they might have seen her, so I told them to go to their dormitory. Then you showed up and asked them where they'd been and what I was doing there; I told you to show more respect to a prefect."

Draco nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I remember."

Crabbe scratched his head. "That's funny--I don't. I don't remember that."

Draco looked alarmed. "What do you mean you don't remember?" He whirled on Blaise Zabini. "What did you do to Crabbe? I thought you were only taking away memories that were just a few minutes old when you were testing the potion?"

Goyle raised his hand nervously. "Can I say--I don't remember that happening either?"

Blaise Zabini frowned. "The charms I put on the pair of you should not have affected memories of your second year. That's rather a long time ago. Hmmm..." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and regarded Percy Weasley, who was staring blankly into space.

"All right. We've got some information. You were supposed to be writing," he said, nodding at Crabbe. "Did you get everything he said?"

Crabbe held up the parchment. "The quill got it."

"Good." Blaise ran his hand through his hair, frowning. "Okay, you," he said to Percy. "What're you called?

Percy held his breath, concentrating. It's just like overcoming Imperius. It's just like overcoming Imperius... "Weatherby," he responded at last, very slowly, still staring at nothing.

"Hmm..." Blaise said quietly. "Interesting. Stands to reason your dad put something a bit stronger than a simple memory charm on him, I reckon," he whispered to Draco; Percy pretended to be staring into space still, not listening to him. "He did get rid of years of memories, after all, not just a few minutes..."

"Good!" Blaise said suddenly to Percy, clapping his hands. "All right, Weatherby. We're hungry. Get us some lunch. Mrs Malfoy is probably hungry as well. Have it ready in half an hour, in the dining room."

Percy stood and gave a slight bow. "Of course, sir."

He walked away from the drawing room, where they were doing the interrogations, breathing a sigh of relief that they hadn't put another memory charm on him. As he moved around the large old-fashioned kitchen, heating a large pot of soup, he felt like his brain was going to explode from the information he'd absorbed during the interrogation.

I'm Percy Weasley. My name isn't Weatherby. I'm a wizard and I'm being held prisoner here. One of them is going to impersonate me and is getting information about my background so that he can do that... He found some parchment used for making grocery lists, a quill and some ink, and set about frantically writing down everything he could remember saying about Penelope, about his family...

He thought about the Penelope-questions that made him really remember her, especially the reason for being down in the dungeons in his sixth year. He clutched at the edge of the table, unable to see clearly at the thought of one of them touching her, pretending to be him... He wasn't sure how he came to lose most of his memories and he didn't know how much he still didn't remember but he was damned if he was going to let any of them near Penelope. (Being asked about her had helped him to remember more; he could picture her long, curly brown hair, her face, and he could even remember a bit of what her voice sounded like.) If he was to retain his memories they had to believe that when he wasn't under the influence of the potion he didn't remember what he'd said, that he still believed himself to be Weatherby. Or he had to make certain that he wrote things down before they wiped out his memory again, putting the parchment someplace that he would find it but they would not.

And when, with their 'help,' he had recovered and kept enough of his memories, he needed to find a way to escape his prison and make his way back to his life.

His real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tilda Harrison sat before Minerva McGonagall's desk, wishing she could sink into the floor. "I've never had a problem maintaining order in the classroom before. But--the students seem to think, just because I'm a Muggle--"

"--that they can get away with murder. I know," Minerva said grimly.

"I understand if you want to hire a new teacher. I haven't had a very good term..."

Minerva looked at her sharply. "I'm not sacking you."

Tilda swallowed and blinked in confusion. "Aren't you?" She had been feeling uncomfortably like she was back in Old Soberley's office, attempting to explain Harry's presence on the roof of the school kitchens.

Minerva made a scoffing noise and frowned. "No, I am not. I think that you've had rather a good term, all things considered. You've faced some challenges that Hogwarts teachers don't usually need to--"

"--because I'm not a witch. Yes, I know," Tilda sighed, remembering the day of the students on the ceiling.

"--and you've risen admirably to those challenges," Minerva said, ignoring Tilda's attempt to finish her sentence. "You've also shown yourself to be quite helpful to the students who require extra tuition in non-magical subjects, which is something I'd like to expand upon in a more official capacity when the new term begins in September..."

Tilda's jaw dropped. "You really want me to come back?"

Minerva smiled. "Yes. I do. To impress upon the third- and fourth-year students that they cannot take advantage, prefects will sit in on those lessons; it seems that the lack of trouble with the older students is due in part to the presence of prefects."

Tilda nodded. "I still think... I should be able to maintain discipline myself..."

"You have no reason to feel ashamed. We can even look into a long-term solution such as putting charms on the room to make it impossible for them to pull pranks. However, I believe that the tutoring will also help in its way." She leaned forward in her chair. "Believe me when I say that we do not wish to lose you, Professor." She fixed Tilda with a steady gaze through those square-rimmed spectacles. "I believe that another professor in particular does not want Hogwarts to lose you," she said gently.

Tilda frowned. Did she mean Severus? Did this mean that Minerva did not disapprove of their relationship?

She received the answer to her silent question very quickly. "He should be waiting for you outside my office, in fact," Minerva said, smiling at her benevolently. Standing, Minerva extended her hand to Tilda, who shook it, a wave of relief washing over her. "You have passed your probationary period and are officially a Hogwarts professor, Tilda. Welcome and congratulations," she added, squeezing Tilda's hand and smiling.

When she left Minerva's office she did indeed find Severus waiting for her. The students had already departed the castle for the train station; Severus was going to escort her home on the Knight Bus and then pick up Teddy for her in London.

"I have a job in September."

She saw the pleasure in his eyes and in the way the edges of his mouth almost curled upward. "Good, good," he said, very subdued. "Are you packed? The carriages will be back from the village soon. Or I could levitate your trunk and we could walk to the village before getting the bus to the farm."

"Does that mean that you're spending your holiday at the farm? Your whole holiday?"

He nodded as they walked down the stairs. "If that's all right with you."

"All right with me? I invited you and you've been hedging about it for ages!"

He swallowed and wouldn't look at her while they walked. "That was because... well, I didn't know whether... if things didn't go well for you here..."

"What?" she said, coming to a halt. She thought about Minerva's words: ...another professor in particular does not want Hogwarts to lose you... "Severus... are you planning to ask me to marry you?"

He looked both stricken and caught-out. "Wh-what? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Something Minerva said. And--something Penelope said to me once. And something Julian said. And Nate. And even Teddy... Ginny also--"

"Is everyone we know planning to do my proposing for me?" he demanded, his face acquiring some colour. He froze, realising what he'd said. Tilda laughed at his expression but a moment later his face clouded over and he turned away angrily.

She ran after him. "Severus! What?"

He stopped so abruptly that she ran into him. He whirled on her. "That's fine; laugh at me," he spat. "I've had a lifetime's worth of experience at being laughed at; I'm very good at it. I can see now that all I'm good for is your temporary amusement..."

"What are you talking about?" When he started to turn away from her, she grabbed his arm and made him face her again. "No, you don't, Severus. You do not say such a ridiculous thing and turn away from me. You think I'm just amusing myself? What, do you think I'm with you because I think you're pretty? I'll have you know that I don't think any such thing about you."

He nodded. "Thanks very much. On top of everything else I quite needed more insults to my appearance. That tops off my day very nicely," he sneered.

"Don't get sarcastic with me. You know what I mean, even though I put it badly. I mean... No. You're not the best-looking man I've ever seen. I think you look--interesting. I'm interested in you. Do you think I'd be with you if I was repulsed by you? So you've got that--that nose. And hair. So what? Look at my hair; I must have three times as much grey as when you met me. And the crow's feet next to my eyes, and the smile lines around my mouth... We're not young, either of us. Nor glamourous. I don't give a damn what you look like. I'm not in love with your looks, I'm in love with you, dammit, and if you don't propose to me I may bloody well propose to you, so if you want to feel like the scales have been balanced and reject me, fine, do it if that will make you feel better, but don't you dare accuse me of just toying with you!" she finally finished, breathless, flushed with both anger and excitement, unable to believe that she was daring to say these things and yet unable to stop herself.

"What?" he said now, staring at her, and she felt a faint sense of accomplishment from reducing Severus Snape, of all people, to near-speechlessness. She tried to soften what she'd said by stepping toward him and putting her arms around his neck.

"So I reckon the answer to your question is--no. Everyone we know is not going to be doing your proposing for you." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Just me."

He swallowed and looked down at her uncertainly, but he put his hands around her waist before saying, "You're certain about this?" He had a look in his eye as though there was a definite right answer to this question and a definite wrong answer.

"Quite certain," she said, marvelling that she was managing to keep her voice steady.

A slow smile--a rarity on his face--pulled at the corners of Severus Snape's mouth.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ron Weasley watched the kids pour off the Hogwarts Express, scanning the crowd for his nephews, finally spotting them; Teddy and Nate were shaking hands, preparing to separate for part of the holiday before the visits would begin. Ron looked around at parents greeting their children, thinking of the day when his kids would be here, but glad that they weren't yet. His boys--and now one girl--were much more fun than he'd ever dreamed, and Luna was effortless in her management of the kids, the house and her father's office; he couldn't believe he'd come so close to ruining it all. He thought of Percy again, as he did whenever he saw Nate, wishing he could have seen his boy. He watched Teddy move off into the crowd and strode to where Nate was waving after him.

"Uncle Ron!" Nate said in surprise when he saw him.

"Your mum asked me to pick you up; she has a surprise back at the flat and didn't want to leave. I was already here anyway, covering a story at the Ministry."

"Cool! So can we take the Knigh--"

"No. Taxi. Your mum's orders." He laughed when Nate's face fell, taking his trunk from him and walking toward the barrier. "Come on, then."

In the taxi Nate chattered about the term and Ron found it hard to resist using magic to float the trunk up the stairs when they arrived at his building, but between the two of them they managed to get the job done without spells. At the door to the flat, Ron shook Nate's hand. "Have a good holiday. You're coming down to Durham, right? Luna and I'll bring the kids round and we can have some fun. A spot of Quidditch?"

Nate grinned at him. "That'd be brilliant! Thanks for picking me up, Uncle Ron. Wonder what Mum's up to?" He took out his key and was about to unlock the door when they heard the latch being opened on the inside; Penelope must have heard them in the corridor. But when she swung open the door they got the shock of their lives; standing next to her was a tall, thin red-headed man with glasses. Penelope grinned excitedly and enveloped Nate in a tight hug.

"Darling! The most exciting thing--" She backed up and put her arm around the man's waist while he put his around her shoulder and looked at Ron and Nate, swallowing.

"Hullo," he said slowly; he seemed nervous.

"Your father is back!" Penelope exclaimed.

Nate and Ron stared open-mouthed at Percy Weasley.

---

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