Questions and Answers

The annoying buzzing woke Hermione early one morning. Without opening her eyes, she patted the night table for her mobile. Flipping the mobile open, she croaked, 'H'llo?'

'Mrs. Weasley?'

It wasn't her mother's voice. That alone drove all traces of sleepiness from Hermione's brain. 'Who is this?' she demanded.

'This is Inspector Miles Thompson, Mrs. Granger. From the police station in Oxford.'

'Oh, right...' Hermione peered over Ron's hunched shoulders at the clock. It was just past six in the morning. 'What's going on?' she said, stifling a yawn.

'I'm sorry to be ringing so early, but there's been an incident with your mother...'

Hermione bolted upright. 'What happened?'

'We found her wandering about a few hours ago. She didn't remember her address. She's smashed up her car, as well.'

'Oh, dear God,' Hermione breathed.

'She's got a few bumps and bruises, so we've taken her to John Radcliffe. We found your number in her handbag.'

'I'll be there as soon as I can...' Hermione threw the mobile to the bed and darted for the bathroom to wash. She dashed through a sketchy shower and stumbled into the bedroom to find Ron sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face.

'Hen, what's going on...?' he mumbled, confused.

'It's Mum,' Hermione gasped, throwing on the first clothes that came to hand. 'She's in hospital in Oxford.'

'What happened?'

'I don't know...' Hermione bundled her hair into a ponytail and snatched her wand from the top of the wardrobe, before she gave Ron a swift kiss. 'I'll ring when I find out,' she promised.

'Do you want me to meet you there later?' Ron called after her.

'No...' she replied, her voice fading as she Disapparated.

*****

Sighing, Hermione shifted in the hard chair, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her jumper. Her mother looked even frailer than she had a week ago, if it was at all possible. 'Mrs. Weasley?' Hermione didn't answer right away. "Mrs. Weasley" was what people called Molly. 'Mrs. Weasley?' the doctor repeated.

'Oh, sorry...' Hermione looked up at the young face of her mother's doctor. What's her name? Dr... Fisher? No... Dr. Pfeiffer

'We need to discuss your mother.'

'I suppose,' Hermione said dully.

'She's not going to get better,' Dr. Pfeiffer stated.

'What... What will happen?' Hermione began to twist the hem of the jumper between her fingers, wishing desperately she had told Ron to come with her.

'Mrs. Granger has already begun to lose her short term memory. Her address, for example. Your telephone number. And slowly she'll lose the rest of it.'

Cold fear settled in Hermione's stomach. 'How much?' she asked softly.

'Everything. She won't remember you. Or your children. She'll forget your father died.' Dr. Pfeiffer put the pen down. 'She'll become agitated when she doesn't remember things, or when everything around her doesn't match up with what's in her head. Mrs. Granger could also become violent when she's agitated...'

'But Mum's never laid a hand on anyone in her life!'

'Mrs. Weasley... Your mother won't be your mother when she reaches that point,' Dr. Pfeiffer said bluntly.

Hermione began to pinch the bridge of her nose. 'How long does she have?'

The doctor shrugged. 'I'm not sure. It could be in a year. It could be longer.'

'Isn't there something you can do?' Hermione asked anxiously.

'We can slow it down a little,' Dr. Pfeiffer said. 'But we can't reverse it.' She fiddled with his pen for a moment. 'You might want to consider hiring a nurse to stay with your mother. Or placing her in a facility that can care for her.'

Hermione nodded, unable to speak for fear she would begin to cry. She slowly inhaled and exhaled a few times. 'Can't I have her stay with me?' she asked plaintively. She began to make lists in her head, rearranging bedrooms in the flat. Mum's not going to go stay with strangers!

Dr. Pfeiffer shook her head. 'You can,' she allowed. 'But I don't advise it. You can't watch her twenty-four hours a day. You'll wear yourself out.'

'But what if I hire someone to help out?' Even as the words left Hermione's mouth, she knew it would be futile. She couldn't hire a Muggle nurse to come to the flat. Even worse, she knew Jane would become quite agitated by magic. The week after Rose had gone back to school, Hermione had Apparated to the house after work one afternoon. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have thought twice about it - she had been Apparating in and out of the back garden for twenty years. But that afternoon, Jane had been so badly startled by Hermione's sudden appearance; it took more than an hour to calm her back down.

'You can try it.' Dr. Pfeiffer pulled open a drawer in a filing cabinet, drawing out a pile of brochures and pamphlets. 'Here are some places where your mother can live, and some agencies that will send a nurse to your home, if that's the way you want to go.' She pushed the stack of brightly colored, glossy paper across the desk to Hermione. 'Think about what would be best for your mother. Not you,' she said bluntly.

Hermione reached for the stack of papers, her hand trembling slightly. 'How can you be so clinical about this...?'

'It's my job. And part of my job is to make sure my patients are taken care of. Not coddle their children.' Hermione reared back in shock. 'It might make you feel better to try and care for Mrs. Granger at home, but it's not always the best thing. She'll need constant supervision.' Dr. Pfeiffer rose from her chair. 'You've been here all day. Go on home. Your mother's resting, and you should do the same.'

Numbly, Hermione nodded and walked from the cramped office, clutching the sheaf of papers. She slipped into an alleyway and turned on the spot, blindly Disapparating.

She opened her eyes, her mouth falling open in surprise. She had ended up in Wales, outside Charlie and Bronwyn's house. Hermione hadn't actively been thinking about Bronwyn, but she supposed subconsciously, she had wanted a second opinion. She started to go up the steps to the porch that wrapped around the house, and stopped, one foot teetering on the first step. I can wait. I can wait for Sunday... she tried to tell herself.

*****

'Aiden! Aiden, get down here!' Bronwyn called up the stairs. Aiden silently clomped down the stairs, scowling slightly. Bronwyn supposed he might have been even more taciturn than Charlie. 'Your bicycle's outside. You need to be getting it inside and put away, meb.'

Aiden shrugged and slouched out the front door. Bronwyn sighed heavily and glanced around the kitchen. 'Cachu,' she muttered. Charlie had left for his shift when she came home from her shift at the infirmary, ducking out before she could see the chaos in the house. The kitchen was a shambles, breakfast and lunch dishes stacked on the drain board, bits of egg drying in yellow blotches to the china, crusts of leftover sandwiches growing stale, apple cores turning brown. It didn't take much to clean with magic, but after dealing with myriad illnesses and injuries in a steady stream all day, Bronwyn just wanted a cup of tea and a hot bath for a quiet hour.

'Mam, bopa Hermione's out front,' Aiden said in passing, as he plodded back into the kitchen, and disappeared up the stairs.

'Did you tell her to come inside, you wee ynfytyn?' The only reply Bronwyn received was the sound of Aiden's bedroom door closing. 'I'm too old for this,' she muttered, jabbing her wand toward the dishes, setting them to scour themselves, as she strode to the front door. She yanked the door open, and was confronted with a pale, tense Hermione, standing on the bottom step that led to the porch. 'Are you all right?' she asked.

Hermione glanced up and nodded stiffly.

'Would you like to come inside?'

Hermione's face creased in dismay, but she nodded again, stumbling up to the porch and edging into the sitting room of the modest house.

'I apologize for the state of the place,' Bronwyn sighed. 'The boys, and I include Charlie in that, quite forgot to pick up after themselves.'

'It's fine,' Hermione said faintly.

Bronwyn ushered Hermione into the kitchen, and jabbed her wand at the table. 'Evanesco,' she murmured, clearing the crumbs and spills. 'Tea?' Without waiting for an answer, Bronwyn tapped the kettle and Summoned two cups and saucers from the dresser. She poured a cup for Hermione and pushed it across the table to her. Bronwyn picked up her cup and began to sip the tea, waiting. Living with Charlie for so long had taught her a great deal of patience. Hermione would talk when she was ready.

'My mother...' Hermione began. 'She's... she's not well.' Bronwyn merely nodded, continuing to sip her tea in seeming placidity. 'She's losing her memory, and the Muggle doctors can't do anything to reverse it.' Hermione looked up in desperation. 'Can we?'

Bronwyn set her cup down slowly. She had heard Jane Granger was ill from Molly. 'Alzheimer's, is it?'

'Yes,' Hermione admitted. 'How do you know about Alzheimer's? It's a Muggle disease, isn't it?'

'It happens to magic folk. Maybe not as often, but it does.'

'But can we help my mum?'

Bronwyn wound a lock of hair around her finger. She quite understood the fierce attachment between Hermione and her mother. Her own mother had died when Bronwyn was a small girl, younger than five years old, and Bronwyn didn't remember her very much. Daffyd had raised her and she couldn't imagine what it would be like to watch him slowly disappear.

Bronwyn took a deep breath. 'No...'

Hermione's face fell slightly.

'Like the Muggles, we can slow its progression, but we cannot cure it, either.'

'Are you sure?' Hermione felt she was grasping at straws. 'There's not some new spell or potion?'

Hating to disappoint Hermione, Bronwyn slowly shook her head. 'No,' she whispered. 'It happens so rarely to magical folk that most of us have never seen it, much less treated it.'

'Bloody, fucking hell,' Hermione growled. 'Sorry...' She took a gulp of the scalding tea to cover her discomfiture. 'I've been living with Ron too long,' she mumbled.

'Don't worry about it,' Bronwyn shrugged. 'Understandable under the circumstances.'

'What should I do?' Hermione asked morosely.

'I don't know,' Bronwyn admitted. 'I've not had much experience with it. A few years ago, one of the other keepers brought his mother to live with him. She didn't live much longer after that.'

Hermione felt her heartbeat slow while the blood rushed in her ears. 'What happened?' she asked, almost afraid to hear the response.

Bronwyn meditatively traced the rim of the cup. 'She fell, broke her hip, was bedridden for a long time.' She caught the expression on Hermione's face and added, 'Even with magic, broken bones don't heal as well with older people. Magic just prods the body into trying to heal the break a bit faster.' Bronwyn sipped her tea. 'She died a few months after she broke her hip.'

'Oh.' The single word seemed to deflate Hermione. 'If it were you, in my position, what would you do?'

Bronwyn sighed and Summoned a tin of biscuits Molly sent home with them after last Sunday's dinner. She pried off the lid and anxiously nibbled one, while she pushed it across the table to Hermione. 'I don't know that one, either. But it was difficult for Edward after a time to manage her. She'd wake up in the middle of the night, convinced it was daytime. She would wake him up, insisting he was in her house. She wandered, and came dangerously close to the enclosure while they were coaxing a Welsh Green to give up her clutch of eggs. Nearly breached the wards and charms on it.' She reached for another biscuit. 'Considering your mother's a Muggle, I wouldn't recommend that she live with you. From what I could tell with Edward's mother, magic tended to disorient her even more, and she had lived her entire life as a witch.'

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. 'So I should find somewhere else for her to live?'

'Again that's your decision, but maybe you should talk to your mother. While she can still understand you.'

*****

Harry stood next to the Head of the Obliviator Department, nearly yanking his hair out in frustration. Things had gotten vile with MacNair. He had taken to transfiguring small bits of rubbish into animated puppets of the most fearsome magical creatures and Banishing them into Muggle children's bedrooms making them feel as if their worst nightmare had come to life. And seeing as how he'd been on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, the breadth of his knowledge was quite vast, not to mention terrifying. MacNair had been caught red-handed, with a vague expression on his face that signaled he'd been Imperiused. If that were indeed the case, MacNair would never have even had to see the person who'd cast the spell.

Carolina, the Obliviator Head, was rubbing her temples, her wand dangling from her fingers. 'So, now what?' she asked exasperatedly.

'We have to put him in Azkaban,' Harry groaned, thinking of the pile of paperwork it would create for him. 'We don't have a choice - he's been caught in the act.'

Carolina twisted her heavy mane of grey-streaked hair into a careless knot and jabbed her wand through it. 'We still haven't any idea who the bloody ringleader is, do we?'

'No,' Harry sighed. The impending dawn leached the colors from the surrounding neighborhood, making Harry feel far older than his thirty-eight years. He'd been awakened at two in the morning by a member of the Obliviator Department via Floo, and it was nearly six now. 'I just...' He shook his head. 'I have this feeling that it's someone who knows Memory charms really well.'

Carolina snorted. 'That's half the Obliviator Department.'

Harry felt his shoulders slump. 'I know.'

'We should get going,' Carolina sighed. 'It'll be morning soon, and the squad's nearly done with the family.'

'We're done,' a voice said next to Harry, making him jump. Teddy's face was drawn and tired.

'What memory did you give them?' Carolina asked, coming alert all at once with an ease Harry envied.

'Pretty much kept things the same, just removed the memory of the creature and of us barging in to take care of it.'

'So the kid thinks he's had a nightmare and his parents came in to comfort him?' Harry rubbed the back of his neck, working the knots from it.

'Yeah,' Teddy replied, too tired to try and clarify it further.

Harry nodded and trudged to the four-person MLE squad, preparing to take MacNair to Azkaban. He felt decidedly mixed at this. He'd disliked MacNair since he was thirteen years old, but Azkaban was still a somewhat horrid place to be. Harry didn't wish it on his worst enemies. 'Go ahead and take him in. I'll submit the paperwork to the Minister in the morning.'

'One down, two to go,' an MLE Hit Wizard sighed.

'Thanks for coming out,' Harry said. 'That's one less trip for me to make,' he told the MLE squad. He handed the leader a wad of parchment. 'That's the paperwork to process him at Azkaban.'

'Thanks, mate,' the leader said, tucking it into his pocket. 'Let's go.'

Teddy slung an arm over Harry's shoulders. 'You got time for breakfast?'

'Are you cooking?' Harry asked fearfully.

'Nope. But I am buying. There's a place by the flat that does a good spread. You're going to have to go in soon, and you'd do better with a hot meal in you.'

Harry smiled a little. 'I keep forgetting you're all grown up sometimes. That's supposed to be my line.' He yawned and stretched, working the kinks from his back. 'I wonder if I can manage a kip in my office before I have to hand the papers over to Kingsley...'

'Have the kip after,' Teddy advised. 'Trust me. I've worked too many overnight shifts the last three years.'

'Have you proposed yet?' Harry asked.

Teddy grimaced. 'No. But Fleur and Bill are okay with it. Vic went back to classes a couple of weeks ago, and she's sort of tied up, and I don't want to do it while she's muttering Healing spells under her breath, with a pencil tucked behind her ear.'

'Does she know? Vic, I mean?'

'Yeah. Molly invited me over for dinner a few days later, and nearly burst into tears when she hugged me. I managed to find out from Arthur that Vic had been over the day before.'

'I keep telling you, trying to keep a secret in this family is like trying to hold water in your hands.' Harry stretched again. 'Come on, then. Let's go have a gallon of tea before I fall on my nose.'

Teddy walked in silence next to Harry while they trudged through the streets of Soho. 'You want someone to go up to Azkaban with you while you're examining MacNair?'

Harry's head snapped up and he gazed at his godson. 'What makes you think I need to have my hand held?' he huffed.

Teddy glanced at Harry pointedly. 'How long have I known you?'

'Since you were born,' Harry retorted.

'Right. And twice a year, you have to interrogate former Death Eaters.' Teddy stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 'I remember one day, when I was about six or seven, and Gran had sent me to stay with you for a few weeks during the summer. Had to be six, James wasn't born yet,' he mused. 'Anyway,' he continued. 'I remember this one day, when Ginny took me to Shell Cottage while she went to work for a few hours, then when she picked me up, we went to the Burrow, instead of your flat.'

'D' you have a point, Ted?' Harry asked with a hint of irritation.

'That was the first time I could remember you not paying any sort of attention to me. You normally came to tuck me into bed, but not that night. Ginny said you weren't feeling well.'

'How can you remember that?'

Teddy shrugged. 'I just do. It was just something out of the ordinary for me.' He stopped and waited for a light to change so they could cross the street. 'I just kept noticing it - that it was the same time every summer. And the summer before my fourth year, I asked Ginny about it. We always went to the Burrow or somewhere else for the day, and this time, when we came home, you were holed up in the office, and Lily was only three, I guess, and she toddled in there, and you shouted at her. I thought it was odd, because you never shouted at Lily, except for the time she tried to touch the stove. But the point is... Ginny told me what it's like for you.' He steered Harry into the door of a small greasy spoon.

Harry dropped into a chair at a postage stamp sized table. 'Not my finest day,' he muttered, too tired to care that Ted was privy to his vulnerabilities.

'You don't have to go up there and deal with MacNair alone, is all I'm trying to say.' Teddy perused the plastic-covered menu, changing the subject to items the small café regularly bungled that Harry should avoid.

*****

Teddy stood on the shore of the rocky island that housed Azkaban, shivering slightly. 'How come you don't teach others how to do Legilimency?' The mental toll it took on Harry was quite obvious.

'I leave that to the experts,' Harry replied tiredly. 'Rafa's much better at teaching it than I am.' Harry shook all over, as if he had a fever. 'Do you mind Side-Alonging me? I just...' He shrugged helplessly.

'You want me to Side-Along you?' Teddy asked incredulously. 'I'm all right if it's just me, but -'

'Of course I do, Ted. I trust you.'

Teddy drew in a deep breath and took Harry's elbow in his hand. 'Ginny will kill me if I Splinch you,' he muttered.

One corner of Harry's mouth turned up in a small smile. 'You Apparate. I'll worry about Gin.'

Teddy exhaled slowly and turned. His eyes popped open, as soon as that suffocating sensation dissipated that marked Apparition. His head swiveled to his right, and he sighed explosively in relief at seeing Harry whole. 'Thank Merlin...' he whispered.

'I had total faith in you,' Harry murmured.

Teddy shaded his eyes with a hand. 'Is that a village over there?'

Harry nodded carefully. His head was beginning to pound. 'Yes.'

'Got a decent pub or café?'

'Pub's all right.'

'Good. You need some tea.'

'Chocolate,' Harry said.

'Chocolate, then,' allowed Teddy. He chatted about Lily's obsession with blue nail varnish, the final Gryffindor Quidditch game next week against Ravenclaw, how excited Al was at being able to finally get his chance to win the Cup.

It wasn't until they were settled in a secluded nook, Harry cradling a large mug of hot chocolate, looking somewhat less ill, did Teddy broach a subject that had bothered him for a few days. 'Why do they make you do this?' he asked.

Harry set his cup down, warmth already spreading through his veins. 'I asked to do it,' he said simply. 'Rather barmy of me in hindsight, but in those early days, I was determined to not be perceived as receiving special treatment.' He swiped a finger through the dollop of whipped cream on the surface of his hot chocolate and licked it off the tip. 'I just didn't want people to think I was trying to beg off my duties. I was already a full Auror without going through the formal training, and all those rather horrid lessons with Severus Snape seemed to have seeped through my thick skull. Once Riddle was out of my head, things came a lot easier.'

'Just doesn't seem fair,' Teddy objected. 'Don't they know what it does to you?'

'No.' Harry picked up his mug once more. 'And I prefer to keep it that way.' He took a long sip of his chocolate.

'Why won't you say something to Shacklebolt?' Teddy persisted.

'Because it's my job, Ted. And someone has to do it.'

*****

The secretary at Lily's primary school looked at Harry and Ginny over the rims of her half-moon glasses. 'You're here for copies of Lily Potter's records?'

Harry leaned on the scarred wooden counter. 'Yes.'

The secretary scribbled something on a clipboard. 'And your reasons?'

'She's going to a different school in the autumn,' Ginny replied. They'd had to do this for James and Al, as well. The comprehensive school had called in a panic when James hadn't shown up for the first day of classes, so Harry and Ginny had had to formally withdraw James, under the pretense he was attending a school for gifted children. It had become a routine for them.

'The same one as your other two?' the secretary asked skeptically.

'Yes,' Harry sighed. He hated school bureaucracy. It reminded him of Ministry paperwork.

The secretary frowned looking in Lily's file. 'Have you always been Lily's mother?' she asked Ginny.

'Of course I have!' Ginny exclaimed indignantly. 'What sort of a question is that?'

The secretary's eyebrow rose. 'According to Lily's file, her mother is Imelda Fincher-Blakley.' She laid the file on the counter, a bony finger pointing to the line that was supposed to have Ginny's name. 'Not Ginevra Potter.'

'Trust me,' Harry assured the secretary. 'Ginny is most definitely Lily's mother. I was there.' The secretary eyed Ginny distrustfully. 'Ginny's name was on the boys' files. How could Lily have had a different mother?'

Pursing her lips primly, the secretary sniffed and shoved the clipboard toward Harry and Ginny. 'Sign here,' she said tightly.

Harry rolled his eyes and picked up the pen the secretary offered and scrawled his signature over the line the secretary indicated. He nudged it to Ginny who did the same, her lips pressed into a thin line that wouldn't have looked out of place on McGonagall. He picked up the file the secretary pointedly placed in front of him, and placed a hand on Ginny's back, guiding her out of the school's office.

He refrained from laughing out loud until they were in front of the school, the offending file tucked under Harry's arm. He held out his hand to Ginny, grinning at her obvious confusion. 'Hiya. I'm Harry Potter, and you are Imelda Fincher-Blakely, I believe?'

'Sod off,' Ginny muttered. 'How could they make such a horrible mistake?'

'Don't worry about it, Imelda. They know who you are at Hogwarts.'

'You're sleeping on the sofa tonight,' Ginny threatened.

'This is our last one,' Harry murmured sadly.

'Yeah,' sighed Ginny. 'Could we not talk about that until September first?'

Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny's shoulders and pressed his lips to her temple. 'As you wish.'

*****

Okay... Full disclosure... My grandfather died in October 2007 of Alzheimer's. I'm basing the advice I have Dr. Pfeiffer give Hermione on our experiences. (My parents did try to have him live with them for a while, but it didn't work very well...) Whatever decision Hermione makes in regards to Jane, I'm not going to undertake it lightly or strictly to cause complications for Hermione, any more than I already have...

And in my head Bronwyn speaks Welsh and English fluently, as do all of her and Charlie's children. So thanks to the Department of Welsh at the University of Wales, Lampeter, I offer the following translations: meb mother; bopa aunt; ynfytyn idiot; cachu shit. I'm not exactly familiar with Welsh, so if anyone out there is fluent in Welsh and I've done it wrong, feel free to let me know and I'll make the necessary corrections.