Circle's Close

Chapter Twenty-One: A New Beginning

***

“Look who's back!”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a smile as they heard Ron’s welcoming greeting echo back at them from the Entrance Hall, being the first two people to enter the school out of the small company of students who had returned with them from Easter break. Darkness had already descended over the Hogwarts grounds, as well as an early spring chill which managed to successfully dampen the students’ spirits. As the last few wizards and witches-in-training entered the castle, the oak door closed discreetly behind them, shutting out the light from the full moon and the twinkling stars above.

“Give me a hand, would you, Ron?” Hermione asked as she struggled with the small stack of books in her arms and her nearly full book bag, while narrowly avoiding being pushed forward by other schoolmates.

Ron grinned as he swooped in, swiftly taking the books from her arms. “Not that I’m complaining, Hermione, but isn’t that what boyfriends are for?”

The boyfriend in question raised up his arms, which were holding a large, though quite light, stack of books. “Does this answer your question?” he asked as Ron chuckled.

“I’ll never get it, Hermione,” Ron said, shaking his head as they moved forward through the Entrance Hall and up the grand staircase. “Exactly why would you need to take all of these books with you on the train? You could have packed them into your trunk, you know. It certainly would have made this a lot easier,” he added, referring to their journey up the stairs.

“Do you know what your problem is, Ron?” Hermione asked, and before he could respond, she cut across and answered for him. “You underestimate the value of education.”

“That may be so,” Ron agreed half-heartedly, while Harry smiled keenly. “But at least I can say that I won’t be bedridden for the last half of my life due to a broken back, caused by carrying around a hippogriff’s weight in textbooks!”

Hermione looked sidelong at him. “You have a wild imagination, Ron,” she told him appreciatively. “You’ll make a great father someday.”

Ron sniggered at this comment. “Where did you get all of these books, anyway?” he asked. “I can’t seem to recall you leaving for Harry’s house with the entire Hogwarts library in your backpack.”

“I borrowed some of them from Sirius and the rest from Remus during the visit,” answered Hermione in a dignified voice. “And yes,” she added, catching Ron’s pointed look. “It would have been easier if I had just packed them into my trunk – but I wanted to do a bit of reading during the train ride.”

“Which means that Harry spent the entire journey catnapping?” Ron grinned knowingly. “And how did Sirius find the time to wangle such a bizarre collection of, er – literature? These titles look a little too cryptic even for Sirius’s taste, in my opinion.”

“Those are all about the days before the Ministry even existed,” Hermione explained, nodding her head towards the books in Ron’s arms.

“Oh, like what Sirius told us about during the Christmas holidays?” asked Ron with mild interest.

“Precisely,” answered Hermione with a small smile. “He made some very interesting points during that conversation, and though he told us quite a bit – I’m also aware that he overlooked a few things. And instead of putting him through the grueling task of answering my questions, I simply asked him if he had any solid information on that particular topic. And that’s how it started.”

“What do you mean? How what started?” asked Ron.

“Sirius went to Grimmauld Place over the weekend,” Harry told him.

Ron’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” he gasped, horrified. “I mean – didn’t he swear he’d never return to that – what did he call it? Hell hole?”

“He made one last trip,” Harry explained. “He picked up a few things – these books included – and he told me that that was the end of it. Grimmauld Place is officially a thing of the past now.”

Ron frowned at him accusingly. “Did he go alone?”

Harry personally understood Ron’s aggravation at the thought of Sirius returning -- without any additional support -- to the house he grew up in. His godfather had always been honest and upfront about his upbringing and how much he had loathed every second of it. The idea of going back to a house like that would be enough to make anyone cringe.

“It’s what he wanted to do,” Hermione told Ron simply. “And stop acting like Sirius is made of porcelain. He’s not going to break into a thousand pieces just because he has to confront a bit of his past.”

“That would be nothing, if he hadn’t faced the worst part,” Ron countered. “Was he alright when he got back?”

“He actually seemed perfectly fine,” Harry said honestly, thinking back to his conversation with Sirius in the attic. “But then again, he might have had more pressing things on his mind at the time.”

“Yeah ... right,” Ron said with a derisive snort. “What could be bigger than Sirius visiting his beloved home?”

Rather than blurt out the truth to Ron, Harry shared a playful smile with Hermione and said, “You’ll see.”

Ron rolled his eyes while hoisting the books in his arms into a more comfortable position as they ambled along the corridors. “Are you taking these straight to your room?” he asked them both, signaling the books with his eyes. “If you are, you’ll need to make it quick. Dumbledore wants to see you in his office.”

“Oh?” asked Harry, sharing a surreptitious look with his girlfriend, who grinned in return. Ron, knowing them better than anyone, caught its meaning straight away.

“You already knew that?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Harry shrugged his shoulders lazily as they reached the next set of stairs. “We didn’t know for sure that Dumbledore would want to talk to us. We only assumed he would.”

“Ah,” Ron said, nodding. “Head Boy and Girl stuff?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” said Hermione, shifting her book bag from one shoulder to the other. “You’ll see when we get there.”

“We?” asked Ron, growing more bewildered by the second.

“You’ll see,” Harry echoed, smiling more broadly as Ron rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“What’s with the constant 'you’ll see'? Why can’t you just tell me?”

“It’s more fun this way,” Hermione teased. Harry laughed with her as he walked straight into a wall – or what he thought was a wall, but was surprised when it produced a deep ‘oomph’ sound. He looked up into Hagrid’s face as the half-giant graced them with a smile which was mostly hidden behind his thick, rough beard, his beetle-black eyes twinkling merrily down at them.

“Hello!” he boomed jovially as he rubbed his large belly. “Back at school, I see.”

“Sorry, Hagrid,” Harry quickly apologized. “I didn’t exactly see you.”

“There’s a first,” Ron said, looking quickly at Hermione with narrowed eyes. “You know – these books are heavy.”

“Oh!” Thinking hurriedly, Hermione dropped her book bag onto the stair she was standing on and reached into it to withdraw a large, thick book. “Thank you for letting me borrow this, Hagrid,” she said, standing and reaching up to hand the book back to him.

“Yer welcome, Hermione!” Hagrid beamed, taking the book from her. “Fascinatin’ creatures, dragons are. Wouldn’t yeh agree?”

“It was an excellent book,” Hermione admitted earnestly. Something in her voice made Hagrid frown slightly. But Hermione plowed on bravely, regardless of the fact that she knew how he might react. “But if anything ... it’s only convinced me even more that ... they ... can't stay here. Hagrid, this is the most dangerous breed of dragon in the world. The sooner you're shut of them, the better."

“Jeez, Hermione,” Ron muttered, shifting the books in his arms. “You don’t need to sound so secretive about it. No one is around to overhear us.”

Hermione shot him a dark look. “These walls have ears. I’m only trying to be careful.”

“Hermione’s right, Hagrid,” said Harry. “Are they ready to go home yet?”

“Home?” Hagrid muttered, his eyes suddenly dark. “What home? How d'yer know they've even got a mum left ter fly off ter? You know wha' them Dark wizards use dragons fer -- cut up their heartstrings fer wands, use their scales ter make magic armor -- an' there's all manner a' uses fer their blood. Nah, I been thinkin'...the safest place fer 'em is right where they are."

Hermione flashed Harry and Ron a look as if to say, "I was afraid this might happen." Drawing a slow breath, she turned back to Hagrid and regarded him with soft, compassionate eyes.

"You're right," she said, which was the last thing Hagrid (or, in fact, Harry or Ron) expected. Hagrid's surprised silence allowed Hermione to press on. "We don't know if the mother is still alive -- and if she is, if she's in any state to care for her babies. But can you care for them as well as -- what's your friend's name again?"

"Mikey," Hagrid said mechanically.

"How is Mikey coming along?" Hermione asked with genuine concern.

"Smashin'," Hagrid said as his dark eyes began to twinkle. "Th' blokes at St. Mungo's say he'll be good as new -- quick as they get his arm fixed back on proper," he added. "He ain't as young as he used ter be, an' the healin' potions're takin' a mite longer'n they reckoned."

"So, Mikey will be able to take the babies back without any trouble?" Hermione said pleasantly. (Was it Harry's imagination, or was there the hint of a devilish gleam in Hermione's eyes as she asked this seemingly innocuous question?)

"Well...no," Hagrid said, fidgeting slightly. "Come ter tha', he tol' me he's givin' up on raisin' dragons. Too dang'rous. Thinkin a' switchin' ter nifflers, matter a' fact. Says they ain't as likely ter take a bite outta yer backside when yer turns yer back on 'em."

"Well, then," Hermione said in the familiar voice of quiet persuasion which Harry and Ron had come to know all too well, "if Mikey isn't up to handling something as dangerous as dragons, what makes you think you can?"

Hermione's challenge came so placidly that, rather than putting Hagrid on the defensive, it cowed him like a First-Year caught sneaking food from the Hogwarts kitchens. "I -- I dunno what ter do," he said meekly.

"I think you do," Hermione said. "What did we do the last time we were in a fix like this one?"

Hagrid's shaggy head rose slowly. "Yeh want ter call Charlie again?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "But not for the same reasons as last time."

The look of confusion that passed across Hagrid's face was mirrored by Harry and Ron.

"If the mother is alive and well," Hermione said, "the babies are better off with her. But if she isn't, Charlie will know how best to care for them."

"And how will we know one way or the other?" Ron said in the same peevish voice he used whenever Hermione tried to explain a knotty homework problem to him or Harry. "Send us a post-owl, will she? With a dragon paw-print so we'll know it's from her?"

"The babies will tell us," she said, arching an eyebrow at Ron.

"O' course!" Hagrid said brightly. "It's all in tha' book! Quick as they're old enough to fly off, they'll sense exac'ly where their mum is an' head off straight as an arrow. An'...an' if they don't fly off..." Hagrid's voice faded into a soft, sad silence.

"It means their mother is dead," Harry said, feeling Hagrid's sadness.

"But even if she is alive," Hermione said, "we'll still need Charlie."

"We will?" Ron said.

"Of course!" Hermione responded. "If the mother dragon is still alive, chances are she's still with the ones who carried her off."

"I never thought a' that," Hagrid said, shaking off his lethargy like a heavy woolen cloak. His black eyes narrowed as he muttered, "Blimey, but I'd like ter get me hands on the blokes what did me mate."

"And Charlie can do that for you," Hermione said.

"He can?" Ron said in surprise.

Hermione heaved an exasperated sigh. "Charlie is a duly appointed agent of the Ministry of Magic. He has full authority in all matters pertaining to dragons, including apprehending anyone who transgresses dragon-related laws. It's no different than when a forest ranger arrests someone who accosts a bear in a national park or a game preserve."

"A forest what?"

"I'll fill you in later," Harry said with a smile.

"Keep watching the babies," Hermione told Hagrid with an encouraging smile. "When they show signs of trying to spread their wings and fly, I'll send an owl to Charlie and he'll do what needs to be done."

"You can use Pig," Ron said with a placating glance at Hermione. "He's an annoying little git, but he's never missed delivering one of my letters to Charlie."

Hagrid continued to look doubtful, and Harry thought he knew why. Apparently, so did Hermione.

"Don't worry, Hagrid," she said reassuringly. "You won't be punished for taking the babies in. Charlie loves dragons as much as you do. He'll understand that you were only trying to do the right thing."

Looking greatly relieved, Hagrid said, "I appreciate all a' yer wantin' ter help. An' yer right. It'll all work out fer the best."

"Hey," Harry said suddenly, lowering his voice. "How's your training coming along? You know -- with Professor Dumbledore?"

"Middlin'," Hagrid said with a smile carefully hidden in the tangle of his beard. "He reckons I migh' jus' make a fair wizard one a' these days."

"If you learn to Apparate," Ron put in, "you'll be able to pop over to Romania to see Charlie whenever you want. He might even let you help him with the dragons -- " Ron cut himself off, fearing he might have said the wrong thing. But when Hagrid's face began to glow as brightly as the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, his fears evaporated.

"Blimey," Hagrid said with a dreamy look in his eyes, "wou'n't tha' be summat!" Harry wasn't sure whether Hagrid was referring to his becoming a certified wizard after so long, or to the prospect of working alongside Charlie. Either way, the smile on Hagrid's face was warm enough to melt the last of the winter snow from the highest tower of Hogwarts castle.

After they told Hagrid all about their Easter holiday (Hagrid nodded every now and then, but they were never certain he was actually listening as he continued to smile and sigh longingly), Harry, Hermione and Ron said their goodbyes and resumed their interrupted journey to Gryffindor Tower.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said as he struggled to maintain his hold on his armload of books. "You played Hagrid like a ruddy violin, you did."

"I've had lots of practice on you two over the past seven years, haven't I?," she said, accepting Ron's compliment in the spirit in which it was obviously intended. Harry laughed at this, but Ron's smile suddenly transformed into a questioning scowl.

"How did you know that Hagrid's mate had gone off dragons? And don't wind me up, either, I saw it on your face even if Hagrid didn't."

"Well," Hermione said slyly, "it might have had something to do with a visitor he had last weekend -- you know, the day we all went Floo-hopping the length and breadth of Britain?"

"You watch your back with this one, mate," Ron grinned at Harry over his armload of books. "She's a force to be reckoned with, she is."

Harry laughed louder than ever, and Ron fell in good-naturedly as Hermione smiled through cheeks glowing even more brightly than they had outside in the brisk April breeze.

Once they made sure that Hermione’s new collection of books were safe in her bedroom, the trio eagerly made their way from their floor down to Dumbledore’s office, where Hermione gave the password, prompting the gargoyle to spring to action and jump out of their way, allowing them to pass and hop the escalator which would carry them to Dumbledore’s office door.

Harry was impressed that Ron hadn’t asked any questions regarding their excursion to the Headmaster’s office. The red-head seemed beyond the point of perplexity, but as they arrived at Dumbledore’s office, a look of relief flashed through his eyes, knowing as he did that whatever questions he had would soon be answered.

Hermione knocked on the door twice, and waited until they heard Dumbledore’s greeting for them to enter, before they pushed open the door and stepped into his round office. The moment Harry entered; the first thing he noticed was the thickness of the air around him. McGonagall, looking extremely severe, beckoned with her hand for them to come forward.

He watched as the Headmaster closed the door to the cabinet housing his pensieve (Harry wondered briefly what new thoughts Dumbledore might have just added to the magical repository) and turned to them with smiling eyes as he folded his hands together.

“Good evening,” he greeted warmly, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles.

As McGonagall stepped around Dumbledore’s desk, standing rigorously next to the Headmaster, Harry’s eyes went from the much older witch and wizard to the two younger occupants sitting in the cushioned armchairs in front of the desk.

Each had a set of jet black hair, though one head of hair was considerably longer than the other. Sirius turned to smile warmly at them, while Claire looked as though she was struggling with her own feelings at the moment. The smile on her face looked forced, and the usual glimmer in her eyes which Harry was so used to had faded substantially.

Thinking quickly, Harry wondered what words had been exchanged between Claire and McGonagall before he had arrived. The fact that Dumbledore looked completely peaceful could only lead Harry to believe that the tension in the room was strictly between the two women.

“I see that Mr. Weasley has delivered my message to you both,” Dumbledore said to Harry and Hermione before smiling serenely at Ron. His twinkling blue eyes returned to Harry. “Sirius informs me that you spent a pleasurable holiday acquainting yourself with your godmother.”

Harry ignored the start of surprise Ron gave as Dumbledore stressed the word ‘godmother.’ “Is that all Sirius said?” asked Harry, shooting a grin at his godfather in hopes of lightening the mood before he looked back at the Headmaster. “In that case, he must have given you the condensed version of how incredible our weekend was.”

Sirius smiled appreciatively at his godson while Dumbledore unclasped his hands and sat down in the seat behind his desk as he continued to look at Harry. “I am profoundly delighted to hear it, Harry,” he said with a sincere smile. “In addition, I feel inclined to apologize for requesting your presence, when you have barely set foot into the school. I can certify that there is a very good reason for it.”

“We already had a feeling you would want to see us, Professor,” said Hermione. “Is everyone here? May we begin?”

Dumbledore frowned slightly at his watch (and Harry again briefly speculated as to how the Headmaster could make sense of the tiny planets moving around the edge of the watch) before looking at his three students. “There is another individual who has yet to present herself. If there are no objections, we shall wait for her arrival before we begin.”

“I believe, Headmaster, that there is one thing Harry is very anxious to do,” Sirius announced, glancing meaningfully between Claire and Ron.

“The floor is yours, Harry,” Dumbledore smiled, sweeping his hand over his desk in a leisurely fashion. Harry couldn’t fight back a grin at Ron’s perplexed expression.

“Ron, this is Claire White, my godmother,” Harry told him, motioning to the woman on their right, who looked slightly more relaxed now. He fought the urge to laugh openly as Ron’s blue eyes widened considerably. “I’ve told you about her before, remember?”

Ron nodded numbly, glancing at Claire and back to Harry as he continued with the introduction. “And Claire, this is my best mate, Ron Weasley.”

Though Claire didn’t look nearly as surprised as Ron did at the moment, she looked at him in a new light as she stood up and extended her hand. Ron, as though jerking himself from a trance, unstuck his brain and reached out his own hand to shake hers.

“I have to tell you, Ron,” Claire said, genuinely smiling for the first time since Harry had stepped into the room. “I’ve not only heard enough about you from Harry to last me a lifetime, but I’ve learned quite a bit from your spirited sister as well.”

“Oh,” Ron said, dazed. “I had no idea...that you were even ... here. I mean, no one told me that you were planning to, er – return. Don’t get me wrong!” Ron quickly added, realizing how impolite he must have sounded. “I think it’s absolutely smashing that you’ve come back!”

Claire laughed musically at Ron’s exclamation, the glow slowly returning to her eyes. “In that case, I’m relieved that I have your approval, even though I haven’t exactly done anything to gain it.” She looked as though she wanted to say more, but stopped herself as she glanced at Dumbledore while avoiding McGonagall’s shrewd eyes.

“Claire returned all on her own,” Sirius added for Ron’s benefit as Claire bowed her head. “Originally, it was supposed to be a short visit. As for her being here at Hogwarts – well that still proves to be a mystery in itself.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, smiling guiltily. “I’m sorry, Claire,” she said, drawing the older woman’s eyes onto herself. “To be fair, I promised to take full responsibility. I mean – it was all my idea. And since Remus isn’t here to defend himself, I’ll take it upon myself to speak for him as well. That was the deal, anyway.”

This time, it was Harry’s turn to look utterly perplexed as Hermione, filled with self-reproach, looked at him. It took him a moment to figure out what she was blaming herself for, and his mouth dropped involuntarily as the realization hit him squarely between the eyes.

“You arranged for Professor Dumbledore to owl Claire?” he said with a mixture of amusement, wonder and bewilderment as Hermione slowly nodded. “But how? When? Why?”

“Well,” Hermione said shortly. “Do you remember when Remus took us to Hogsmeade for a few hours on Saturday?” At Harry’s brief nod, she took a deep breath and plowed on. “Then you remember how we complained about having to use the Floo Network as many times as we did?” Harry nodded again, though at this point, Hermione knew that she was now talking to the entire room. She spoke rapidly as she explained everything to them.

“We owled Professor Dumbledore from Ottery St. Catchpole and told him that Claire had returned. Shortly after we arrived in Hogsmeade, Professor Dumbledore contacted us, and asked us to come straight to his office. We were at Remus’s house at that point – so he and I used his fireplace and we came straight here ... to the Headmaster’s office ... to talk about what we could do for Claire,” she added without the usual confidence she typically expressed when she was doing something she felt sure about.

“But whose idea was it to write to Professor Dumbledore?” asked Harry, thankful that Hermione was quick enough to not let Draco’s name slip through her entire explanation, and knowing how difficult it must have been, considering that Draco had actually been there during that time.

“That’s why I’m guilty,” Hermione admitted, chagrined. “That Saturday morning, when Sirius announced that Claire was staying permanently, they gave me the idea to see Professor Dumbledore. I remembered that Claire told us how she used to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s before she moved back to Canada. I thought ... maybe he could offer her a job as a teacher or get her old job back -- “

Hermione was cut off by the sound of abrupt knocking at the office entranceway. Claire looked up suddenly, appearing as though she wished she could vanish right on the spot. Harry, personally wondering who this last addition could be, had a feeling that Claire already knew.

“Enter!” Dumbledore called.

Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, rushed into the room, her face flushed from making her way quickly from the infirmary to the Headmaster’s office in a very short span of time.

“I’m terribly sorry for being late, Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey said in a rush. “Just as I was leaving the hospital wing, young Mr. Johnston came in with the flu, and I had to stay with him for a few minutes. But he’ll be alright. I just hope I caught it in time. He’s the fifth one this weekend, and the last thing I need is a full-scale epidemic,” she admitted. “It’s one thing to treat one patient – but twenty to thirty –“

“I take it you administered a strong dose of ginger extract for the boy?” Claire asked teasingly and almost with a sense of timidity.

Harry knew that Madam Pomfrey had been Claire’s mentor when she had attended Hogwarts, and by looking at his godmother, he sensed that she was extremely nervous by being in the same room with the woman who had given her a deeper appreciation and understanding of what it meant to be a Healer. Even over the weekend, when Claire had enlightened Harry and the others concerning her career path, she had spoken about Madam Pomfrey with the deepest respect and admiration imaginable.

“Of course I did!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed indignantly, scanning the room for the source of the voice. Hermione, who had been standing in front of Claire, moved out of the matron’s path. Her sharp eyes landed on Claire, and in that brief instant her whole face took on the swiftest transformation. Her hands automatically went to her mouth, where she barely managed to stifle a short cry of surprise.

Claire smiled shyly, wiggling her fingers at Madam Pomfrey in a short, nervous wave.

“Good Heavens!” Madam Pomfrey gasped, bringing her fingers down from her mouth to clutch at the material surrounding her midsection. “How is this possible?”

Claire gave a slow, helpless shrug. “Judging by the way everyone has reacted so far ...” she said listlessly, “it’s almost as though everyone thinks I’ve just come back from beyond the grave ...”

“And it’s no WONDER!” Madam Pomfrey exploded. Harry jumped slightly, not expecting this kind of a reaction from the elderly woman. Claire, on the other hand, looked more prepared for it than anyone else in the room. “What was in your head disappearing like that, girl?” she continued in the same incensed tone. “You didn’t even say goodbye! And what on God’s green earth kept you from coming back? Do you have any idea what you put us through?”

Claire’s fingers sought her heart-shaped pendant as she chewed her bottom lip anxiously. She looked at Madam Pomfrey, her eyes deep and full of regret. “I don’t know what to say,” she humbly admitted. “There is no reason or excuse big enough to condone what I did. I – I really don’t blame you for being angry.”

“’Angry’ is the understatement of this century, you ignorant, foolish girl!” Madam Pomfrey lashed out, and Harry was surprised to find her eyes glossing slightly as she stubbornly looked away from Claire, a dark frown on her face which matched McGonagall’s expression exactly. “And you’re right, Claire,” she added a moment later in a tremulous whisper. “There is absolutely no excuse.”

Harry stared at Madam Pomfrey in complete awe and horror as an awkward silence fell over the room. Even Sirius, who looked positively livid with Madam Pomfrey, couldn’t find any words to bring rationale to the matron’s attack. Harry had a feeling that his godfather had exhausted all possible reasoning in Claire’s defense with McGonagall, before he, Hermione and Ron had arrived. Perhaps this was the reason McGonagall had said nothing to support the school matron, or argued against her. At any rate, the hard look on the Deputy Headmistress’s face softened slightly as she cast Claire a pitying look.

How could Madam Pomfrey treat Claire this way? How could she possibly stay angry with her after all these years? If Sirius, Remus, and even Dumbledore had forgiven her almost instantly, then why couldn’t she or McGonagall find it in their hearts to do so as well? Why didn’t they understand that Claire had done what any human would have under the same circumstances?

“Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione inquired softly, and the old wizard looked up at her, giving her an inviting smile, silently encouraging her to continue. “I was only wondering ... now that we’re all here ...”

“Of course” said Dumbledore, smiling at everyone in the room before his light blue eyes landed warmly on Claire, who struggled to mask her misery. “When I learned that you had returned, Claire, only one possible solution came to mind. Poppy came to me on Friday last, expressing a deep desire to visit her very ill sister, who is bedridden at home. Unfortunately for us, Claire; that would leave me without my school Healer.”

“I see,” Claire said slowly after a short pause, glancing quickly at Sirius and then back to Dumbledore. “Headmaster, not to sound ungrateful, but I haven’t practiced medicine in over 16 years. As much as I appreciate the suggested offer – I can’t possibly accept.”

“That’s not true!” Harry exclaimed suddenly. “I thought you told me you worked as a nurse while you lived in Canada?”

“Oh, yes,” Claire agreed emphatically. “I mean to say that I haven’t brewed the simplest of potions in that length of time. I haven’t even used my wand yet, Harry.”

“No one said that this would be an easy transition,” Sirius told Claire, his warm eyes meeting hers. “But it’s a start, nonetheless.”

“Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey looked at the old wizard, speaking with an edge to her voice. “Are you sure about your decision? The last thing I want to do is to put an unnecessary burden on you ... or on anyone else.”

“I have seldom been more certain,” Dumbledore assured Madam Pomfrey. “As a matter of fact, I have already arranged to have a ‘help wanted’ ad placed in the Daily Prophet for a replacement until your sister has returned to full vigor. If Miss White chooses to accept the offer, I will have the advertisement removed before it appears in tomorrow morning’s paper.”

“In that case,” Madam Pomfrey said while looking at Claire shrewdly. “I could not have asked for a better replacement.”

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but closed it almost immediately. She looked beyond startled at this strange turn in the conversation. She blinked, searching for something – anything – to say. But she could only stare up at her former mentor, with hope burning in her obsidian eyes.

“I would not take this as a sign that I have excused your ridiculous, childish behavior,” Madam Pomfrey continued in the same hard voice as she drew herself up to her full height. “It’s very simple. You’re the right person for the job, Claire. And I was the one who trained you, after all, which means I know you can handle it.”

Claire shook her head, looking down at her lap as she spoke. “I can’t accept,” she repeated firmly. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, contrary to what you both might believe,” she said, sounding increasingly confident by the second as she looked from the matron to the Transfiguration teacher. “I never expected any of this to happen. This was supposed to be a short visit. I wanted to see my godson. It’s as simple as that. I never thought I’d be back here at Hogwarts – I never even entertained the notion. But I can’t stay here.” Her pleading eyes finally landed on Sirius, her voice breaking as she spoke. “I can’t, Sirius. I just – I can’t.”

“I can’t exactly blame you,” Sirius said darkly, shooting furious looks at Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall, while Dumbledore slowly closed his eyes as though bracing himself for an oncoming burst of anger from his Defense teacher. “I would feel the exact same way if I were in your shoes. Evidently, Snape isn’t the only one in this school who has the ability to hold grudges,” he said to Claire before his steely eyes settled on Madam Pomfrey. “The difference is: you both adored and respected Claire before she left.”

“I never said that I refused to forgive her,” Madam Pomfrey said defensively. “It will take time for us to adjust to her presence. Or have you forgotten that you are not the only one she left all those years ago? She left behind much more than you realize.”

“And she is in the room,” Sirius snarled, pointing a finger at Claire. “If you have anything to say, I suggest saying it to her.”

“I’ve heard all I’ve needed to hear,” Claire said heavily, glancing apologetically at Dumbledore’s saddened face. “Thank you for your generous offer, Headmaster, and I apologize for feeling the necessity to decline. But I believe that my visit here has come to an end.”

“Hold on,” Harry said, panic squeezing his chest as Claire quickly stood up. “You can’t just leave!”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Claire said with a resolute smile as she touched his arm lightly. “At least I can say that I tried, right?”

“You promised you’d stay,” Hermione challenged. “Even Madam Pomfrey agrees that you’re the best person for the job!”

“I wish I could agree with her,” Claire said, glancing at Sirius as he slowly stood. “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. It would be too much for me to expect forgiveness. And it’s too much for me to stay here, knowing that I’ll never earn it.”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “And I would strongly recommend that you do not – under any circumstances – leave again. 16 years ago you ran, Claire. Do not repeat the same mistake.”

Claire looked at the older witch and shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t know what you expect of me,” she said. “I’m not condemning you for resenting me, because I would feel the exact same way. Hate me all you want, but I, myself, don’t have what it takes to deal with it. It’s too much – too soon. It’ll be –“

“Easier if you leave?” Dumbledore finished quietly, bringing his clasped hands down from his chin and resting them on the desk as he looked at Claire calmly and patiently. Claire looked back at him and gave a shaky sigh, dropping her shoulders.

“I wasn’t planning on using those words ... but ... yes,” she agreed softly, turning back to Harry with regret in her eyes.

“And it’s a wonder that the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor,” McGonagall snapped aggressively.

“I’m not that same girl anymore!” Claire shouted sobbingly, wheeling on her. Harry remembered how easily she had lost control of her temper back at home. But even now, Claire seemed on the brink of desperation rather than fury. It was clear that the only thing Claire desired right now was their understanding. And that was something that they were not willing to give up very easily.

“You’re right,” McGonagall agreed evenly. “You’re the girl I came to visit when you received your Hogwarts letter. You’ve reverted back into the submissive, scared little girl who allowed herself to be controlled by her mother.”

Claire made a soft sound deep in her throat, looking as though McGonagall had just slapped her. Her creamy complexion suddenly seemed too pale, as though McGonagall’s words had caused all the blood in her face to drain.

“Minerva, that’s quite enough,” Sirius ordered calmly, though Harry could see that it was a strain for Sirius to contain the rage which was dangerously close to the surface.

“She needs to hear it,” McGonagall told him with apology in her beady eyes, before she directed her attention to Claire once again. “Would you like to know what I thought when the Headmaster first told me that you had returned?”

Claire said nothing, but looked all the more attentive nonetheless, as did everyone else.

“I thought of Harry,” McGonagall continued, giving Claire a small, sincere smile. “I felt joyful and relieved to know that he would have one more person in his life – another friend, another ally, someone who could give him something no one else could: his mother.”

Harry felt a strange, large lump in his throat as he swallowed, wondering if Hermione had arranged for Claire to stay at Hogwarts for the exact same reasons: to give Harry an intimate knowledge of the mother he never knew. As though thinking of her had triggered an automatic reaction, Hermione instantly moved next to him, linking her arm through his. The lump in his throat vanished, only to be replaced by a flourishing warmth, circulating where his heart thumped beneath his ribcage.

“The truth is,” McGonagall continued, “you cannot keep running from your problems, Claire. You know better than anyone that issues simply don’t vanish because you want them to. You have allowed your fear to control you and dictate how you live your life. What you need to do is confront your obstacles head-on. You need to do this for yourself, Claire. Not for Harry, nor Sirius, nor anyone else.”

“I’m not exactly prepared to work alongside people who loathe me, Minerva,” Claire said shakily, the blood slowly returning to her face as she regained her composure. “Some people might have the courage to subject themselves to that kind of torture. And I’ve already admitted that I am not the same Gryffindor you knew 20 years ago. What else do you want from me?”

“Firstly, stop using our dissatisfaction with you as a scapegoat,” McGonagall answered curtly, and almost with a sense of exasperation. “And secondly, accept the Headmaster’s proposal, for heavens sake. Poppy is entirely correct in saying that you are the right person for the job. I wouldn’t be saying that if I did not want you here – and neither would Poppy.”

Claire opened her mouth to protest. But Sirius, sensing this before she could even get a word out, placed his finger over her lips, shooting her a pointed look which didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room.

“You’re deliberately being stubborn, Claire,” he countered. “And now you’re outvoted six to one, seven including Ron.”

Claire narrowed her eyes at him, forcing his hand away as he grinned at her. “I was going to say that I still think that there’s a problem with the fact that I haven’t done magic in almost two decades.”

“That is easy enough,” Madam Pomfrey said, the edge fading slightly from her voice as she looked at Claire. “I can spend the next day or two re-introducing you to everything you’ll need to know. Most things, I’m sure, will come to you naturally. You don’t simply forget, Claire. You can’t shut your powers off, no matter how hard you try. Am I right?”

Claire nodded. “Even after I ... supposedly ... had my wand destroyed, I still felt the magic in me. There were times when I would automatically use magic without the benefit of a wand. Even after all these years, it still happens every now and then.”

“Then you should be able to pick things up rather quickly,” Madam Pomfrey continued. “You were always quick in Potions – we’ll need to get you started on that straightaway, as there are many new antidotes for you to learn. I’m sure Sirius won’t mind helping you pick up everything else.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Sirius accepted with a courteous nod to the matron, who smiled sardonically in return.

“It is a joy to have you back with us, my dear,” Dumbledore told Claire. “Tomorrow morning, you shall meet Poppy in the hospital wing – “ He stopped talking as Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat loudly, drawing his attention, as well as everyone else’s, onto herself.

“I would prefer if we start immediately,” she said briskly. Claire looked sidelong at her, her eyes growing slightly wider.

“You know what they say, Claire,” Sirius grinned. And he and Claire spoke at the exact same time, in the same knowing voice.

“There’s no time like the present.”

“Precisely,” Madam Pomfrey agreed as Dumbledore laughed softly, McGonagall looking at Claire and Sirius rather fondly.

“Then I would ask you three,” Dumbledore nodded in Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s direction, “to direct Claire to her lodgings. You know the way, Hermione. After you settle in, Claire, you shall meet Poppy in the hospital wing. Is an hour satisfactory, Poppy?”

“Very much so,” said Madam Pomfrey.

A moment later, they said good-bye. Harry, Hermione and Ron led the way out of the office, down the escalator and through the entranceway, Sirius and Claire deliberately lagging behind as they spoke together in low voices.

“How convenient is that?” Ron asked to no one in particular. “If Madam Pomfrey didn’t need to go home to visit her sister, Claire wouldn’t have a job. And then she wouldn’t be able to stay here.”

“Dumbledore would have thought of something,” Hermione said confidently. “But you’re right. It is convenient.”

Harry’s mind wasn’t exactly concerned with whether Claire would work at Hogwarts or not. His mind was still buzzing from the way McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had treated her. Did they truly have a right to be as upset with Claire as much as they were? He knew that they were entitled to feel that way. But were they too harsh in their judgment? He supposed, in the end, it had worked out alright. McGonagall and the school Healer had acted more civil towards Claire by the end of the conversation, and Harry supposed that that had to count for something.

“I mean,” Ron continued in a low voice, looking at Harry now. “How are you supposed to react when your godmother surfaces after so many years?”

“About the same way I reacted when I found out Sirius was my godfather,” Harry replied wryly. “Sure, I didn’t take it too well, but under the circumstances, it’s no wonder. In any case, I was still pretty amazed when Claire appeared on our doorstep. We all were.”

Ron looked over his shoulder and watched Sirius and Claire for a brief moment before turning back to Harry and Hermione as they continued walking along, making their way to the teachers' wing. “Why do I have the feeling I missed a good show?”

“Speaking of being missed – where’s Leah?” asked Hermione suddenly.

“In the library,” Ron told her, grinning sheepishly in spite of himself. “She’s studying for her O.W.L.’s.”

“Smart girl,” Hermione said approvingly. “Would I be asking too much if I suggested that you should do the same? You know, our N.E.W.T.’s are coming up,” she reminded both boys.

“You don’t say!” Ron scoffed. “I had no idea, Hermione! I mean, our teachers have only been talking about them ever since ... Fifth year...” he added slowly as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine,” she said critically. “I would really like to see you write up your own revision sheets this time.”

“Aw, Hermione,” Ron said in a placating tone, latching onto her elbow with both of his hands as he pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “You don’t mean that!”

Hermione rolled her eyes upwards at him.

“I won’t pull through my N.E.W.T.’s without your help, Hermione!” Ron insisted mournfully. “Just like every other year.”

Hermione smiled at him, laughing slightly. “Don’t give me that,” she said in a more sincere tone. “If it hadn’t been for your dedication, you wouldn’t have pulled through. You did it all on your own. And as soon as we get back to the common room, I’ll start on those timetables immediately,” she told both Ron and Harry.

“I’m sure your Defense teacher will be extremely relieved to hear that,” said Sirius behind them. Harry turned to find that his godparents had caught up with them.

“Why do I have the very sinking sensation that you’re going to make our N.E.W.T.’s a living nightmare?” Ron asked Sirius.

Sirius laughed heartily at this. “Who do I look like? Sna—“

“Don’t make me use a Silencing Charm on you, Snuffles,” Claire cut across, looking at Sirius warningly. “There are some spells that I mastered ages ago, and I wouldn’t want you to expect that I’ve forgotten everything.”

He glowered at her. “Woof,” he muttered defiantly.

“You know about Snuffles?” Ron asked Claire after their laughter had died down. “We thought he came up with that name ... more recently,” he added, looking sidelong at Harry.

“Recently? No, no, no,” Claire answered somberly, glancing at Sirius and catching the melancholy expression on his face. All of a sudden, a light of awareness came into her dark eyes as she looked sharply at Ron. “Wait a second – it’s understandable that you would know about Padfoot. But how in the world do you know about Snuffles?”

In two minutes flat, Harry and Ron readily told Claire all about how Sirius had used the name “Snuffles” during his fugitive days while he kept in contact with Harry. Once they filled her in, she looked at Sirius, something stirring deeply behind her sapphire eyes. In that moment, she looked as though Sirius had moved her beyond words.

“Are you saying that you're the one who gave Sirius that pet name?” asked Hermione, hardly daring to believe that Sirius could possess the capacity to act on such a sentimental level.

Claire nodded, a slow blush blossoming along the apples of her cheeks as she averted her eyes from Sirius self-consciously. Sirius, seeming to act more out of habit than anything else, brushed her hair back tenderly with his hand, and she turned her eyes back to him. Even though it seemed that she couldn’t find adequate enough words to describe what she was feeling at the moment, it appeared that Sirius didn’t need them. The powerful tenderness in her eyes told him all he needed to know.

As they descended the last staircase which would lead them to Claire’s room, Harry watched their Potions Master, Severus Snape, walk swiftly from one of the rooms beyond, towards them. Realizing that there was a group of students making their way into an unauthorized section of the school, he opened his mouth to tell Ron, Harry and Hermione as much, but before he got a word out his eyes fell on Sirius. And then his black eyes moved from his old school enemy to the young woman by his side.

To Harry’s surprise, Snape kept looking back and forth between Sirius and Claire, almost as though he was trying to comprehend what he was seeing, and possibly trying to convince himself that he was hallucinating. Harry personally wondered what was going on behind Snape’s emotionless eyes. Remembering how much Snape loathed Harry’s own mother, it was only logical that he would feel the same way about Claire.

“It looks like the rumors are true,” Snape said smoothly, successfully masking any kind of an outward reaction as he approached them, looking at Claire – and seemingly avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“Severus,” Claire said, mockingly regretful. “You sound almost disappointed to see me.”

Snape raised his dark brows at this. “I apologize if I refrain from jumping with glee,” he replied sardonically. “And I suppose it was only a matter of time until you returned, once you discovered that Black was no longer running from the law. How very ... what’s the word I’m looking for? Ah yes, that’s right: typical.”

Ignoring the barb, Claire forced a smile to her ruby lips. Sirius, on the other hand, instinctively made a motion towards Snape’s throat as though to physically choke the very life from him. Claire and Hermione both grabbed an arm, pulling Sirius back while Snape watched with mild amusement mingled with satisfaction.

After a moment of commanding Sirius to calm down, Claire finally turned back to Snape, pasting another brilliant smile to her lips. “It’s nice to see you, too, Severus. And I see you’re a teacher, no less! The Potions Master,” she added in an impressed tone. “I guess the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was taken, was it?” she asked with deceptive innocence.

Snape stopped smiling.

“I take it you’re back permanently?” he asked her icily. Sirius, who seemed slightly calmer, remained on his guard, half-expecting Snape to say or do something incredibly wrong – or exceedingly stupid. Harry privately hoped that he would. And one glance at Ron told him that he was thinking along the same lines.

“You know,” said Claire, tilting her head to the side. “It wouldn’t hurt you to sound a little bit more enthusiastic. And yes, Severus, I’m back.”

“She’s the new school Healer,” Harry explained, and Snape shot his cold eyes at him as he spoke.

“Of course she is,” Snape replied coolly, his top lip curling slightly as though this thought disgusted him. “Only Claire White could disappear for nearly two decades and return with the assumption that she still owns this school.”

“Oh, stop your whining, Severus,” Claire said exasperatedly. “I’m only here until Poppy returns. And then I’ll be out of your – um – hair for good.” Harry personally thought it said a lot for Claire’s character that she hadn’t used the word “greasy” when referring to Snape’s hair. Then again, the small smile on her face said that she was thinking it, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Splendid,” Snape replied, sneering nastily. “Black and White, together again. It’s just like old times, is it not? We have Potter here, a mere duplicate of his father and nothing more. We have Miss Granger, who is all-too-much like Evans. What does that make you, Weasley? The weasel? I wonder who that reminds me of.”

If it hadn’t been for Hermione’s hand resting on his arm as a silent, warning gesture, Harry was sure he would have done something drastic that would most likely get him expelled from Hogwarts. He hated that Snape could make such a casual insinuation without feeling the slightest remorse. Hadn’t he, himself, been a Death Eater?

“Keep it up, you hypocritical son of a bitch, and I will report you,” Sirius growled venomously while Claire pulled back on Sirius’s arm, even though she knew that his strength completely outweighed her own. “I will not stand here and listen to you insult my family.”

A twisted smile graced Snape’s lips as he looked at Sirius, his eyes glowing with triumph. “I believe you just did.”

It took Harry, Ron, Hermione and Claire to hold Sirius back as Snape passed by them, his head held high with a sense of achievement emanating from him. Sirius wrenched his arm from Hermione’s grasp, reaching for his wand --

“Sirius Black, PUT THAT WAND AWAY!” Claire shouted, drawing Snape’s attention back to the small group behind him. His own hand closed around his barely hidden wand as he turned to face them. “Put it back, Sirius, or so help me God –“

“Taking orders from your woman, Black?” asked Snape, a challenging look in his otherwise cold and empty eyes, while Sirius hesitated to put his wand away. “It’s nice to see that some things haven’t changed.”

“You know,” Claire said to Snape conversationally as she let go of Sirius. “Sirius has his wand pointed at you. Even the most asinine person in the world would have enough sense to know when to shut the hell up.”

“I’ll consider myself warned, then,” Snape returned coldly and added to Sirius, “Before you know it, she’ll be telling you what you can’t wear or what you’re allowed to eat. I’d watch out, if I were you.”

“Just go!” Claire exclaimed heatedly as Sirius growled, moving forward. He was stopped again by Harry, Ron and Hermione as they held firmly onto his robes and arms as they pulled him back. “Severus, I won’t tell you again,” Claire added firmly. “If you don’t leave, Sirius will not be held accountable for his actions. There are four witnesses who will vouch for him. I can’t exactly say the same thing for you.”

Snape gave a curt nod, made to turn away from them, but turned back almost instantly. “White?” he inquired. Harry turned his head just as Claire and the others did, wondering what else Snape possibly had to say. Sirius had never looked as imposing as he did in that moment while Claire looked at Snape with mild surprise.

“I do hope you’re up to the challenge of being the new Healer. I’ve just heard that there’s a flu bug making its way around. And we all know how difficult it is stamping out that kind of a virus. It would be dreadful if you lost control of the situation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when you come down with the same bug,” Claire returned hotly.

“Right,” Snape sneered. “In that case, welcome back.” And the last they heard from him was the swooshing of his black robes as he turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving everyone in a sort of stunned, aggravated silence.

“You should have let me Curse him,” Sirius growled, running his hand roughly through his hair as he stared at the spot where Snape had been standing, his other hand still clutching his wand as he lowered it slightly.

“You’re not 15 anymore, Sirius,” Claire reminded him. “And neither is he.”

“He still acts it!” Sirius bellowed, pointing after Snape with his wand. Claire heaved a sigh, giving Sirius a pointed look.

“Don’t let him get to you, Sirius,” she said in a pacifying tone. “You know he said all of those things just to prove that he could provoke you. Hell, I haven’t seen him in over 16 years and even I know that.”

Sirius did not take this as a consolation of any kind. If anything, the scowl on his face deepened considerably, which made the concerned look on Claire’s face intensify.

“He’s just jealous,” Claire added in a soft whisper as she touched his arm tentatively. “You have everything he could only dream of. After the world turned against you, they welcomed you back with open arms. You were offered a position he has had his eye on for years now. But more importantly -- you are surrounded by people who love and respect you. What does he have?”

The scowl on Sirius’s face faded slightly at her words of assuagement, though he stubbornly continued to clutch his wand. He looked at her, but said nothing.

“Exactly,” Claire continued, smiling. “He has nothing, and he knows it. That’s how it’s always been, remember?”

“I’m still finding it incredibly difficult to swallow that he welcomed you back,” Ron spluttered, looking completely perplexed. “Why would he say that?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “He was just terrified that Sirius would actually hex him if he didn’t act the least bit apologetic. And would you take your hand off of that thing – “ she ordered Sirius. “Besides,” she added to the three wizards-in-training as Sirius reluctantly tucked his wand away. “He was only nice – if you call that being nice – because he knows if he falls ill, his precious health will be in my hands.”

“He’s a potion brewer himself,” Ron argued. “Couldn’t he just heal himself?”

Claire grinned knowingly at him. “Have you ever tried to brew a potion while hugging a toilet? And let’s not forget the scorching fever that leaves you feeling so disoriented you can’t even tell reality from fantasy. And it’s not as though Snape is foolish enough to wait it out until the virus fades from his system. It’s common knowledge that the longer you wait, the worse it gets.”

“Good point,” Ron agreed as Hermione motioned for them to keep walking, with promises that they were nearly there.

“I think he was actually welcoming you back into the wizarding world,” Sirius told Claire. “He obviously isn’t too keen on the idea of you being back at Hogwarts. But --” and here Sirius sighed wearily, as though this was too much for him to admit. “-- I know he respects you as a witch.”

“It’s only because I was good at Potions,” Claire reminded him. “Otherwise, I would have been at the very top of his hit list.”

“You’re good at what you do, Claire,” Sirius told her matter-of-factly. “And Snape isn’t that much of a bastard to ignore that fact. Thank heavens for small favors,” he muttered before his attention was drawn back to a previous topic. “And what was going on with you in Albus’s chamber?”

Claire’s fingers played with her locket as she shrugged. “I was fine,” she told Sirius. “I mean – it certainly helped having your support ...“

“That’s not what I meant, and you bloody well know it,” Sirius said in a low, impatient rumble. “I think Minerva said it best when she accused you of running away.”

“Oh ... like I really had a choice in the matter,” Claire said with mock bitterness as she glared up at him. “You would have tied me up hog-style and locked me in a closet somewhere if I dared to walk away, I’d wager. In fact, why am I surprised to find that there are no manacles dangling from your pockets?”

“Because you’re still thinking like a Muggle,” answered Sirius, grinning mischievously, all former irritability having faded, almost as though Claire’s playfulness had won him over. “Who needs chains or rope when using a standard Stunning spell works just as effectively?”

“Oh?” Claire said with a devious smile. “Who was it that said rope had certain incomparable benefits? I could have sworn that that was you, Snuffles.”

Ron and Harry choked on their laughter, while Hermione, unable to decide whether to cluck her tongue in her usual critical manner or laugh with the boys, settled on shaking her head with a small smile on her face instead.

“What?” Sirius said, grinning innocently at Claire. “I think you’ve mixed me up with someone else, my dear. I would never dream of suggesting – “

“You never suggested, innocently hinted or insinuated, Sirius,” Claire admonished, wagging an accusing finger at him. “You blatantly expressed your opinions -- quite articulately, I might add – for every single girl at Hogwarts to see and hear.”

“Oh, as I recall it – James had quite a bit to do with that as well,” Sirius retorted laughingly.

“And you’ll also recall how unimpressed we all were?” Claire returned, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I never really could understand why you put up with us as much as you did,” Sirius admitted. “I mean, honestly. What did you see in me?”

Claire shrugged, giving Harry a small wink before turning back to Sirius. “You were popular, rich and very handsome. What more could I possibly want?”

Harry and Ron shared an appreciative laugh while Sirius merely frowned.

“Wait a second,” he said. “I had good looks? As in past tense? After all those nice things I said about you in Albus’s office – that’s all you have to say in return?”

Claire giggled, her face slowly growing red. She quickly turned to Hermione, deliberately ignoring Sirius’s indignant question. “Are we almost there?”

“We’ve been here for about two minutes now,” Hermione said, smiling apologetically. “You and Sirius have been – er -- bickering the whole time.” Hermione withdrew a silver key from her pants pocket and inserted it into the keyhole while Claire and Sirius exchanged a grin behind her. Hermione pushed the door open, stepping out of the way, allowing the two adults to enter first.

The moment Claire stepped into the dim room, Sirius waved his wand towards the lamps on the far end, and they automatically lit up, placing the room under a cozy atmosphere. The burgundy room itself was larger than Harry’s own Head Boy room, complete with its own sitting area in front of a glowing fireplace.

“Blimey,” Ron gasped as he looked around the room, impressed. “Well, that’s settled. I’m going to be a teacher after I’m finished school. Are all the rooms like this one?”

“Talk about motivation,” Sirius taunted. “I’m sure your mother will be pleased to hear that you’re finally making a career move.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, regardless of what the rooms look like,” Hermione said reprovingly to Ron, who grinned in reply. “And here you are, Claire,” she added, handing the woman the key to her room. “Ron, Harry and I have a lot to catch up on, so we’ll leave you two be for now.”

Harry and Ron shared a groan, reluctant to get started on schoolwork. But Harry knew that Hermione was right, and Ron seemed to think so, too, especially once Hermione shot a very narrow look at him.

“I should get going, too,” Sirius added slowly, suddenly looking awkward as he stood in the middle of Claire’s room while the others made their way to the door. Claire, looking panic-stricken all of a sudden, stared at Sirius.

“But then I’ll be alone,” she said softly.

“Ah, well ...” Sirius said uncomfortably, looking at her. “We just figured you might want some time alone – I mean; I know how you like your space. And I –“

“You know what?” said Hermione, interrupting Sirius and his tirade of excuses. “We’re going to go now.” And without another word, she grabbed Ron and Harry by their arms, led them out of the room, closed the door behind them and started down the corridor.

“Merlin’s beard,” said Ron, once they had made their way up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. “Talk about awkward.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry curiously.

“Claire and Sirius!” Ron exclaimed. “One minute they’re acting like they’re joined to the hip, and the next, they have no idea what to even say to each other.”

“Oh,” said Harry blankly, remembering how comfortable they had been with each other over the weekend. What had changed?

But Hermione was shaking her head at Ron. “You are incredibly tactless sometimes, you know that?”

“What did I do this time?” Ron asked exasperatedly. “If I was being tactless, I wouldn’t have waited until we were out of earshot to speak my mind. I would have said it right there in front of them, wouldn’t I?”

Hermione shook her head stubbornly. “You could try to put yourself in Sirius’s shoes – or even Claire’s.”

“And how do you expect me to do that?” asked Ron, nettled.

“I don’t mean literally!” Hermione lectured. “Just think about what they’ve been through. Before everything happened all those years ago, they were going to be married. That indicates that they knew each other pretty well – each other’s habits, each other’s thoughts and feelings. They’re linked, Ron. I’m sure you’ve heard the term ‘soul mate.’”

“Right,” said Ron. “Like Mum and Dad. Or you and Harry.”

“Exactly!” Hermione said, relieved to hear that Ron was getting the idea. “So you can imagine how Sirius and Claire might feel when ... after so many years ... they’re reunited by the bonds of fate itself. Their thoughts might have changed over the course of years, but their habits and feelings have not. They can still read each other – as only a pair of soul mates could. And so they automatically fall into old habits with each other, as though they never were divided for that length of time. Do you see?”

“Sure, I do,” said Ron. “But that still doesn’t explain the awkwardness between those two.”

“That’s OK, I wasn’t finished,” Hermione said impatiently. “Now -- it would be pretty difficult to live in a completely different atmosphere and not have changed your thoughts somewhat, right? Claire lived in Canada with her parents, which, according to Harry, was her own private prison – her punishment.”

“What?” Ron said, incredulous, looking to Harry for answers.

“I’ll explain it to you later,” Harry promised, nodding to Hermione for her to continue.

“And Sirius spent 12 years in Azkaban, and you can add an extra three years to that for the time he spent as a fugitive,” Hermione pressed on. “You try living that life and tell me you wouldn’t change your thoughts at all. Your thoughts on how you look at people – at the world. No matter what, you’re of a different view point. You’re not a different person, exactly – though that would strongly depend on the circumstances. You just look at things differently. Sirius was lucky enough to have a happy ending by having his name cleared – and now, presently, he’s working on building his life, and in doing that, he’s found joy and contentment again. Had it been different ... if he didn’t have Dumbledore’s support, or Harry, or Remus, we would be dealing with a very different Sirius Black than the one we know.

“And then there’s Claire, who spent the better part of 16 years hating the wizarding world. And after all these years, she’s back, with the same internal struggle, only now it’s worse, because she hates herself even more than ever for leaving Harry. In her eyes, she acted selfishly. And in her mind, she hasn’t yet found that same happiness which Sirius has rightfully claimed. She still has a deep hatred for the Ministry and what they did to Sirius. The chances of her feelings changing are very slim, indeed.

“And so, when Sirius and Claire are together, they’re overcome with everything that they’ve been through – they don’t know what to do or say. On one hand, they’re struggling to accept the reality which they’ve found themselves in. It doesn’t seem logical to them that they can suddenly be with each other whenever they want to. It’s almost as though they’re expecting the worst to happen. They’re on their guard – which is why you see that ‘awkwardness’ between them. And on the other hand, they automatically reach out to each other – almost mindlessly – as though it’s the most natural thing in the world for them to do, because it is the most natural thing in the world for them to do.

“What they need to do is figure out where they stand – really stand – and then they can go from there. But there will be those painful moments between them, where all they can remember is the anguish and their grief. Because of that, they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing, thinking that one will hurt the other by dredging up the past that they’re both trying so hard to work through.

“But this time, they have each other,” Hermione added, smiling reassuringly as she caught Harry’s eye. “And, God willing, they can truly begin to heal."

*

“Oi!” Seamus exclaimed. “And how did Easter go for our favorite Head Boy and Girl?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered Ron’s dormitory room, where Seamus and Dean were lounging together on Seamus’s bed, flipping through a few packs of International Quidditch player cards. During the walk from the Teachers' wing to their common room, Ron had explained that he had a couple of Easter packages from Molly Weasley for Harry and Hermione, which prompted them to follow Ron into his room.

“Very ... interesting,” Harry answered Seamus. “What did you guys do while we were gone?”

Dean shrugged lazily. “Same old. Hey – Ron, could you maybe do something with your robes? I think the smell is getting to me. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Thanks for sharing,” Hermione said dryly, narrowing her eyes at Ron’s pile of dirty laundry. “Actually, it does smell pretty rotten – what’s that smell, Ron?”

“He soiled himself,” Seamus sniggered, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, prompting him to stop.

“It was all Dean’s idea,” Ron said defensively. “And the smell is of eggs,” he added heatedly, shooting a dark look at Seamus, who in turn burst into a fresh fit of laughter.

“Don’t tell me,” Hermione said, shaking her head at Ron, her eyes uncannily perceptive. “Dean told you all about the two Equinoxes, did he?”

“What he didn't tell me was that it wouldn’t work,” Ron said, shooting another dark look at his roommates.

“Hey,” Seamus said simply. “Just because it didn’t work for you, doesn’t mean that the world was unbalanced. It merely signifies that you were.”

“Very funny,” Ron muttered, as Dean and Seamus shared another chuckle at Ron’s expense.

“It’s just a theory, Harry,” Hermione said, reading her boyfriend’s puzzled expression. “People say that on the Equinoxes, when day and night are exactly 12 hours long, you can balance an egg on its end. Each Equinox happens around Easter and again around fall. The gravity, because the world is perfectly balanced during this time, is supposed to pull the yolk down, making the egg balance on its tip – but I guess Ron was a little unsuccessful.”

“And it naturally took me a dozen eggs for me to realize this,” Ron muttered, Dean and Seamus still sniggering on the bed.

“Of course, there are the two counterparts, which are the solstices,” Hermione continued. “The summer solstice – also known as Midsummer -- typically lands on June 21st. In the days of lore, it was not at all uncommon for women to gather nine different types of flowers and place them under their pillow – in hopes that the person they were meant to wed would be revealed to them in their dreams. As for the winter solstice, which occurs on December 21st -- “

Hermione abruptly stopped, her brown eyes slowly widening with every passing second. Ron, Dean and Seamus looked at Hermione, expecting her to continue on with her explanation. But Harry knew that she had automatically stopped for a reason. He could practically hear the wheels in her mind spinning.

“We have to go!” Hermione suddenly exclaimed, throwing open Ron’s dormitory door and rushing down the hall towards Harry’s dorm room. She pulled out her wand impatiently. “Alohomora!” The door burst open and she entered the dark room, waving her wand over the lamps, showering the room in dazzling light. Ron and Harry finally entered, watching her as Ron kicked the door closed behind them.

“What was that all about?” he asked incredulously.

“The winter solstice!” Hermione blurted. “Do you guys not see? Don’t you get it?” She groaned in frustration at their persistent silence. “Do either of you not realize when the winter solstice occurred last year? Last December?”

“Er – December 21st?” Ron supplied as he and Harry both looked at her, each with expressions of mingled guilt and helplessness. Harry was trying to figure out what she was getting at – but a lot of things had happened in December –

Wait. Only one thing would make Hermione as rattled as she was. But the idea was so ludicrous – and yet – could it be possible?

“Are you saying,” Harry started, unsure of himself as Hermione stared up at him pleadingly. “OK, Hermione,” he started freshly. “You’re referring to the Hanging Tree, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Hermione exclaimed, her eyes oddly bright.

“And the Hanging Tree was blasted on December 21st, if my memory serves me correctly,” Harry continued contemplatively.

“And the winter solstice was on December 21st, Harry!” she exclaimed. "To be precise, it occured at 8:07 p.m., Greenwich Mean Time. I looked it up -- "

"In a book," Harry said at the same moment as Hermione. He tried to smile when he said it, but the effort was never fully realized.

“Alright,” Ron said, trying to keep some semblance of calm in the room. “I don’t even see why there’s a cause for alarm. Both of them happened on the same day. So what?”

“Because, Ron,” Hermione said logically, her voice slightly calmer. “It’s too much of a coincidence to think that the Hanging Tree was destroyed on the shortest day of the year without a reason. Sirius explained to us how the Tree was pure evil – or need I remind you of the details from that unpleasant conversation?”

Ron shook his head, paling slightly while Hermione, suddenly inspired by a thought, crossed the room and threw open Harry’s side door which led to her bedroom. Harry barely had a moment to wonder why she had left so abruptly, when she returned just as quickly, this time clutching a thick, black book in her arms and a square piece of parchment in her hand.

“Do you remember this?” Hermione said, waving the piece of parchment.

Harry scanned the page while looking over her shoulder, instantly recognizing the picture of the charred stump in the town square of Ottery St. Catchpole which had appeared in the Daily Prophet on December 22nd.

“Shortly after 8 p.m., a freak bolt of lightning struck and destroyed the infamous Hanging Tree in town square,” Harry read out loud. He and Hermione exchanged a look as he moved around to face her again. Harry then looked to Ron, whose face seemed to be struggling like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap. He thought he knew what Ron was thinking. The Hanging Tree was destroyed "shortly after 8 p.m." That did not automatically mean that it was destroyed at precisely 8:07. But Harry had a sick feeling in his stomach, like he was falling through the air without a broomstick to hang onto.

"Let me see that clipping," he said suddenly, extending his hand to receive the scrap of parchment from Hermione. He stared at the Daily Prophet photo for a moment. The blackened stump that had been the Hanging Tree dominated the foreground. The background was less defined, hampered as it was by the grainy black-and-gray ink, and the much-folded paper on which it was printed. Harry drew his wand and touched the clipping. "Engorgio." The photo expanded until the background grew more distinct. Harry caught his breath. The clock tower overlooking the village square was now visible as a soft blur. The hands on the clock face were fuzzy, but the time they described was unmistakable.

"Ron," Harry said distantly. "Didn't you tell me once that that old clock in the village keeps stopping all the time?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Every time one of those great aeroplanes comes roaring over, the shock wave makes the clock stop dead. They have to send an old bloke up there to give it a prod to get it going again. That clock tower is to Big Ben what Pigwidgeon is to a proper post-owl."

Nodding, Harry handed the clipping to Hermione, who glanced at it before passing it to Ron. Ron's eyes widened as they saw the time frozen on the clock face by the booming impact of the lightning strike the night before: 8:07.

“Now do you understand?” Hermione pleaded, looking from Ron’s pale face to Harry’s contemplative one. “That Tree was destroyed for a reason – a purpose. Whoever was behind it chose the winter solstice as the exact day -- the precise moment -- to demolish the Hanging Tree.”

“But why?” asked Harry, privately wishing he could read his girlfriend’s mind as she looked down at the book clutched in her arms before returning her eyes to the two boys in front of her.

"If the two of you didn't spend so much time in History of Magic kipping on your desks," she said shortly, "you'd know that some of the most terrible incidents of Dark magic have taken place on certain key dates and times throughout history."

"What makes one day different from any other?" Ron challenged impatiently, his manner indicating no small amount of guilt in regard to Hermione's all-too-truthful accusation (though he and Harry were far from the only students to nod off to the mind-numbing drone of Professor Binns' boring lectures).

Following a thoughtful pause, Hermione said in slow, professorial tones, "The universe isn't just a sky filled with stars and planets. It's -- well -- in simple terms, it's a bit like an enormous pocket watch -- like Professor Dumbledore's," she added, remembering the Headmaster's curious watch from their morning visit to his office. "And though it may not seem so from a glance up at the sky, all of those billions of parts are working together, so that when a when a gear turns in one place, it causes other gears to turn, from one end of the universe to the other."

"Professor Sinistra says you can tell time by the stars," Harry offered, feeling it was better to say something that at least sounded intelligent than maintain a silence more likely to be interpreted as stupidity.

"Yes," Hermione said. "And the seasons, and latitude, and so on. But more than that, the changing state of the cosmos can affect magic."

"Now you're starting to sound like Trelawney," Ron said with ill-disguised contempt for the dotty Divination teacher.

Momentarily stung, Hermione replied, "We've long since learned that just because she is an old fraud, that doesn't mean there are no such things as genuine prophesies." She spared an apologetic glance at Harry, whose own visions had proven both real and disturbing all this year. "But I'm not talking about Divination. I'm talking about the universe influencing magic by its constantly fluxuating state."

"How?" Harry asked with genuine curiosity.

"The 'how' and the 'why' remain a mystery," Hermione said. "But it's no less real for that. Why does the full moon trigger the werewolf transformation? No one knows for sure -- but that ignorance doesn't stop Remus from transforming every month. Every time the heavens shift, it affects the way magic works. Sometimes the effect is so small it goes unnoticed. But other times..."

"And this is one of those times?" Harry said.

"The druids recognized the power and influence of the changing seasons," Hermione said. "Spring -- the Vernal Equinox -- exerts a great power over the world, a power for good. But for every light, there's a corresponding darkness. The longest night of the year is a time when darkness exerts its greatest power over the earth -- and over magic."

"But that's just...rubbish," Ron said weakly. "Magic is the most powerful thing there is. How can a little thing like a few minutes' less daylight make a difference?"

Smiling indulgently, Hermione said, "It's not surprising that you'd think that way, being born into a wizarding family. But the truth is, magic is nothing more nor less than a force of nature...like the ocean tides, and the rising and setting of the sun. Things that Muggles used to regard with wonder are dismissed now because they've been explained away. But magic? Well, ask Harry's aunt and uncle about that."

"To hear them tell it," Harry said, "magic is the foulest thing there is -- not to mention those who practice it."

"And why do they think that?" Hermione said distastefully. "They aren't alone in that thinking, you know. The answer is all too simple. Muggles don't understand magic, and whatever they don't understand they automatically regard with suspicion and mistrust. Even fear. They can't accept the truth that magic is simply a natural part of our world. And being a part of the world, it can be influenced by the world."

Ron looked as if he had just swallowed a vomit-flavored Bertie Botts' bean. "So, the Hanging Tree being destroyed on that particular day means -- what, exactly?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "But I do know that it wasn't an accident. That tree was destroyed for a purpose -- and you can bet all the Galleons you're saving up for Leah's birthday present that it isn't good."

“We should go to Dumbledore,” Harry suggested suddenly. “If you’re right about this – which I think you are -- I’m sure he’ll want to know all about it.”

“I’m sure Dumbledore already knows what we’ve just discovered,” Hermione pointed out, sighing heavily. “We already know that Sirius knows more than he’s letting on. We’d only be giving them useless facts.”

Not wanting to be outdone, Harry persisted. If Sirius had all rights to fight for the Order, then Harry certainly did! If nothing else, he wanted to do his part. “We don’t know what they know,” he said. “We could try – “

“Playing the hero?” asked Ron, and blanched slightly when Harry turned his blazing emerald eyes onto him.

“Don’t give me that!” he said heatedly. “I’m only trying to do what is right!”

“No,” Hermione said, not willing to give in to Harry’s anger. “What you’re trying to do is get yourself involved again. And I would like to kindly point out that the Order is doing quite fine without you. More to the point, I’m not going to encourage you to act recklessly just so you feel you’re doing something – anything -- useful. You have enough on your plate as it is. And need I remind you that the Order will still be there when we graduate?”

A soft knock came from the outside of his room. Ron, looking somewhat relieved at the break in the argument, crossed the room and pulled open the door. Harry reigned in his temper. Interruption or no interruption, this conversation was far from over.

“Hey, Ron,” Leah greeted, her eyes full of exhaustion. She looked past her boyfriend. “Hey, Harry – Hermione,” she greeted. As though sensing that something was wrong, her dark brows furrowed with concern. “Is ... everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” Ron assured her, glancing over his shoulder and sharing a clandestine look with Harry and Hermione. He turned back to Leah. “Finished studying?”

“For now,” Leah nodded. “I think I’ll do really well in Charms when it comes to Exam time,” she added confidently.

“If you need any help, Leah, you know you have two very willing and able friends to help,” Hermione said, and Harry looked away, trying to hide the furious expression on his face from Leah. “What did you guys do over the weekend?” Hermione asked, determinedly ignoring Harry.

“We went to Hogsmeade,” answered Leah, smiling up at Ron. “Ron was so sweet.”

“Oh?” asked Hermione, smiling. “How so?”

Leah grinned enthusiastically. “Just as we were waiting for our meal at Madam Puddifoot’s, he pretended that he was going to use the washroom – but instead he left the restaurant altogether! And ten minutes later, he returned with a beautiful set of Easter chocolates – all of which were my favorite kinds. Naturally, I’ve eaten them all already,” she added, looking slightly ashamed of the fact.

“Listen – are you tired yet?” Ron asked Leah, his face glowing red from embarrassment.

“A little,” admitted Leah. “But I was hoping I could have a chat with you before I go off to bed. What do you say?”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, looking back at his two friends. Hermione nodded as though to say that she could handle Harry. Ron nodded back and took Leah by the elbow, leading her out of the room and closing the door behind him, leaving Harry and Hermione in complete silence. There was a long pause, during which time Harry stared at his feet, his hand gripping one of the four posts of his bed while Hermione stared determinedly at him.

“I will not watch you put yourself in needless danger,” Hermione continued in a quiet whisper. Though Harry was desperately trying to look as though he wasn’t listening, he knew that Hermione could tell that he was. “There will come a day when you’ll get the chance to prove yourself to the entire world – both wizard and Muggle.” She approached him tentatively, touching his upper arm gently. “But today isn’t that day, Harry.”

There was another long stretch of silence while Harry fought the inner struggle that was in him. He didn’t want to give in, but through and through, he recognized that Hermione was right.

“I’m just sick of it all, Hermione,” he finally admitted, feeling a hot, sick sensation in his stomach as shame washed over him. “I hate the visions that come to me – I dread going into Divination class, because every day I keep thinking I’m going to have another one. I despise not knowing what the visions mean. I can’t stand not being able to do anything about anything. I hate watching Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore and everyone else fight while I sit on the side – waiting to graduate so I can join them, when I know I should be there with them now.”

“And what could you do if they let you join right now?” asked Hermione, and Harry was relieved to hear that there was no mocking tone in her voice. If anything, she sounded extremely sincere. He thought deeply about her question, and realized that he didn’t really have an answer.

“I know what you’re capable of,” Hermione said in a pacifying tone. “You’re a powerful wizard, Harry. More powerful than I could ever hope to be.”

“You're more powerful, Hermione. You’re the most powerful witch I’ve ever known,” Harry told her truthfully.

“I’m who I am right now because of you,” Hermione told him, looking up into his face, her eyes shiny. “You – of all the people in the world – showed me what friendship was. You showed me what love was. And out of all the most potent, powerful magic in the world – love is the strongest. You know it’s true. You would know that truth even if the Princess hadn’t pointed it out to us.”

Harry hadn’t realized that his arm had slinked around her waist, drawing her closer. But he abruptly found himself looking into the depths of her glossy brown eyes – into her very soul. His throat suddenly felt too tight to speak as the intense beauty of her love washed over him in warm, soothing waves, chasing away his inner demons.

His eyes traveled from her own down to her mouth, and without another thought to steer him, he softly pressed his lips to hers, gently and tentatively. She closed her eyes, her arms traveling from his arms to his shoulders, hugging his neck as she pulled him closer. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the warm recesses of her mouth, her own tongue seeking his.

They broke away from the kiss, Harry pressing his forehead against hers as he breathed in deeply.

“And when that time comes…when you’re called to fight,” Hermione breathed in a feathery whisper, “I’ll be standing right next to you, mind, body and soul.” She pressed a chaste, reassuring kiss to his lips, both of them keen on savoring the moment.

“I don’t want you to leave me tonight,” Harry choked, touching the base of her throat as he stared deeply into her eyes in hopes that she would see just how much he didn’t want to be alone. “That’s alright,” Hermione finally replied, her eyes fluttering shut as she brushed her lips against his. “I don’t intend to leave.”

Almost instantly, they both heard the soft ‘click’ of the bedroom door locking. They both looked startled at this as they turned their attentions to the door. Hermione slowly looked back at Harry, raising a skeptical brow.

“Did you just – lock that door?”

Harry shot her a chagrined look. “I didn’t mean to,” he replied honestly. “One minute I was thinking about it – and the next – “

The mist gone from her voice, Hermione stared at him with surprise. “Something tells me that this isn’t the first time this has happened to you.”

Harry grinned sheepishly, bringing her back into his arms. “I’ve been practicing. I suppose it helps, what with the Auror Training and all. Remus told me it would come in handy someday if I trained myself to use wandless spells.”

His lips found hers again, this time more eagerly, and Hermione responded with equal fervor, moaning into the kiss as his hands traveled up and down her back, sending small, thrilling shivers up and down her spine.

“What…else…you…do?” she panted as Harry’s lips went from her mouth to her earlobe, down her next to the base of her throat. Without a word, Harry made a quick motion with his hand towards his bed. The sheets and comforter folded down neatly. Another quick motion towards his window, and the curtains fell back into place, blocking out the light from the full moon. Hermione gave a small gasp, completely awed.

“As for the rest,” Harry said enticingly into her ear. “You’ll just have to discover for yourself.” “I told you that you were a powerful wizard,” Hermione whispered back, looking up into his radiant face.

“If I’m powerful because I have love in me, then that power comes from you,” Harry murmured, “because you are my love, Hermione Granger. Essentially, you are my power.”

And with those final words, he waved his hand toward his lamps, showering the two of them in darkness.

***

To Be Continued...