Questions and Answers

Neville led Scorpius, Lily, Al, and James to Greenhouse Three, and flicked his wand at the door. It swung open, creaking slightly on its rusty hinges. 'I must remember to add that to the list,' Neville murmured absently. He ushered two dejected boys, one miserable girl, and one slightly bemused boy inside. He lightly cuffed Al and James on the shoulder. 'As much practice as you lot get outside of Gryffindor's regular practice sessions playing with the rest of the family and over the summer, one missed practice isn't going to kill you.' He dropped a stack of parchment on the scarred desk in the corner. 'You're lucky it was McGonagall that caught you out of bounds and not Professor Trentham.'

'Why is that?' Scorpius asked curiously. He thought McGonagall would have been stricter than Trentham. He'd often heard stories from his mother and grandmother about how strict McGonagall could be with Gryffindor when she was still its Head.

'Trentham would have given you a week's worth of detentions, written to your parents, and taken away more than five points apiece,' Neville said dryly. 'It's what she would have done when she was still the Head.'

'Oh.' Scorpius shrugged off his cloak and laid it over a stool. 'Well, this is all right, then,' he said brightly, earning a hard elbow in the ribs from Al. 'Ooof.' He swiveled his head, rather like an offended owl and glared at Al. 'What was that for?' he demanded.

'This isn't exactly a picnic,' Al drawled.

'One night is better than a week,' Scorpius argued. 'And Professor Longbottom is right. Missing one night of practice isn't going to hurt your game. You practically sleep with your broom as it is.'

'All right, enough,' interjected Neville. 'Lily, I need you to sort through those boxes under the table. They're mostly things like pruning shears and trowels. Check over the earmuffs. And there's a collection of lost dragon hide gloves. Check them for names, so we can find out who belongs to them. Separate out the ones that need cleaning or repairs. When you're done, I'll show you how to do that.'

'You're going to let me use magic?' Lily blurted.

'Of course I am,' Neville laughed. 'Doesn't hurt to get a little extra practice in, does it?'

'But what about all those stories I've heard about having to clean trophies without magic?' James asked suspiciously.

'Oh, that was Ron our second year,' Neville said lightly. 'Poor Ron... Charm backfired on him earlier that day and he ended up burping up slugs all afternoon.'

'Ewww!' Lily's face scrunched in disgust.

'My thoughts exactly,' Neville murmured. 'Scorpius and Al, all those clay pots need cleaning as well.' He gestured to a large pile of terra cotta clay pots in the corner, caked with earth inside, and a coated with a white crust on the outside. 'Sorry, but they have to be done by hand...' Neville added sympathetically.

'But -' Al began in protest.

'It's important that the pots be properly cleaned,' Neville said, cutting off Al's objections. 'You can do it by magic, but the best way to do it is by hand. It's how we did at the St. Mungo's greenhouses,' he added.

'Fine,' Al grumbled.

'James, I need you to repot some of the herbs for the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey's in need of more Pepper-Up potion.' Neville consulted a scrap of parchment. 'She needs... Ginger, garlic... marjoram,' he added, squinting at the nearly illegible squiggles that passed for Madam Pomfrey's handwriting. 'Ravensara... Thyme... Goldenseal and...' Neville brought the parchment up to his nose. 'I'm pretty sure that's elderberry,' he said, turning the scrap around for James to see. 'Clean pots are under the table in that corner,' Neville told him, gesturing over his shoulder to a darkened corner.

Sighing, the children silently got to work. Neville settled at his desk, grading the seventh year Herbology essays. James carried an armful of clay pots to the table, across from where Lily had heaved an unwieldy box containing lost and errant gloves. He lined them up on the table and glanced at Lily. 'I know you were upset the other night,' he said quietly. Lily's head moved in a slight nod. 'But you can't run off like that. Mum and Dad would never forgive me if something happened to you.'

'I thought you were going to fink me out to Mum,' Lily muttered, turning a glove inside out, searching for a nametag.

'I was,' James admitted. 'But...' He trailed off and shrugged, gently tugging a clump of goldenseal from its pot. 'Anything Mum could have done at that point would have been adding coals to Newcastle,' he snorted. 'And you were already ill and had a detention.' He settled the herbs in their new pot and placed more potting soil around them. 'I didn't mean to shout at you,' he said grudgingly. 'I was scared and worried.'

'I didn't mean to stay out there that long,' Lily mumbled, pawing through the box, searching for the mate to the glove. Unable to find it, she flung it into another box. 'I guess Archie Hatcher will have to just buy another pair...' She pulled another glove from the first box, and turned the cuff back, keeping her eyes on the glove. 'I kept thinking... About Dad...'

'Yeah, me, too,' James muttered. Neither of them had to say the glaringly obvious statement that hung between them: it could have just as easily been Harry instead of Kathleen.

Al pushed his sleeves back and picked up a stiff brush, and began to work it around the inside of a pot. Fine crumbs of dirt showered over the table and flew into his face. 'Urk. I'm going to have to use this on me later if it's going to be like this all night,' he grumbled, brandishing the brush, swiping a sleeve over his face. 'Heard from your mum lately?'

Scorpius sighed and poked his own brush into a pot. 'Yeah.' He flinched a little as a large insect scuttled out of the pot and darted for the shadows. 'She's thinking about leaving my father,' he confessed, so softly, Al wasn't quite certain he'd heard him.

'What?' Al leaned a little closer.

Scorpius savagely scrubbed the dirt out of the pot. 'Father offered Mother a divorce,' he ground from between clenched teeth. 'She's thinking about accepting his offer.'

'W-w-why?' Al blurted, then flushed. He'd heard Scorpius talk about his parents often enough to know they were nothing like his parents.

Scorpius gave Al a look and slid the pot aside. He continued as if Al hadn't spoken. 'She says I shouldn't worry,' he snorted. 'If she does decide to leave, it would take years to wind its way through the system. 'That might be true, but everyone would know,' he added. 'It would be worse than it already is.' Scorpius gestured toward the dark hulking shadow of the school with his brush.

'Do you want them to stay together?' Al asked.

'I dunno,' Scorpius sighed. 'On the one hand, it would be nice to not have to live with him and know I just manage to disappoint him all the time. And Mother wouldn't have to live with him, either. Maybe she'd be happier without him.' He pulled another pot toward him. 'On the other...' Scorpius laughed bitterly. 'Isn't that pathetic? I can't even find anything bad about it, other than having to listen to Geoffrey and his lot taunt me even more. And that's just an annoyance.' He shook himself slightly. 'Now he's disappearing, dressed in Muggle clothing, for hours at a time. Won't even tell Mother where he's going.'

Al's face scrunched in distaste. 'You don't think he's...? You know...?'

'Got a bit of stuff stashed somewhere? I don't think so, but I can't be sure.' Scorpius rubbed his hand under his nose, stifling a sneeze, leaving a streak of dirt across his upper lip. 'Wouldn't put it past him,' he said darkly.

'Who would you live with? If they do split up?'

'Mother,' Scorpius said quickly. 'She said she didn't even have to ask, he just offered to let her take custody of me.' He glanced at Al. 'So how's your dad doing?' he asked, in an effort to change the subject.

Al shrugged. 'Mum says he's okay. Says the shoulder's healed nicely.'

'Are you scared that next time...?' Scorpius toyed with a loose thread. It didn't matter what next time - next attack, next death.

Al nodded silently. 'I'd be stupid not to be,' he admitted. That was something new for Al. He had never given his father's job much thought before. It was merely something Harry did during the day, and occasionally at night. He'd never known the clenching fear that now occasionally gripped him at odd moments, when he happened to glance at the headlines of the Daily Prophet Isabella had delivered every morning.

Death may have been something Albus Potter didn't mind as a rule. But only when it was an abstract concept.

xxxxxx

Harry stared at Aaron, open-mouthed. He quickly stood aside, and pulled Aaron into the house. 'Start over,' he ordered, prying Sarah, who was beginning to whimper softly, from Aaron's arms.

Aaron blindly walked into the sitting room and fell into a chair. 'I don't quite know,' he began. 'I went to pick up Sarah at the childcare center after work today, because Dudley has tutoring after school. And I just couldn't go home.'

Harry glanced at Ginny's watch. It was after eight. 'So you drove all the way out here?'

'I didn't know where else to go.' Aaron's dark hair fell into his face. 'I can't sleep, because I keep seeing that woman die... I'm terrified to go home...'

'Dudley doesn't know you're here?' Ginny asked, flicking her wand toward the kitchen, Summoning an extra cup. She poured tea into it and pressed it into Aaron's unresisting hand.

'No...'

She exchanged a glance with Harry and he shifted Sarah expertly to one hip and slipped into the office. He opened the top drawer of his desk, and picked up the mobile. It was vibrating frantically. There were twenty missed calls and all of them were from Dudley. Harry dialed Dudley's number, and took a deep breath, waiting for Dudley to pick up on his end. 'Oh, God, Harry... Aaron and Sarah are missing,' Dudley nearly shouted, without greeting.

'They're here,' Harry said. He waited for a reply, but there was silence on the other. He looked down at the mobile, to check that the call hadn't been disconnected. 'Erm... Dudley...?' He received a muffled snuffle in return. 'Right. Don't go anywhere, don't do anything. I'll be there in a minute. All right? Dudley? Do something to let me know you heard me...'

'All right...' Dudley said in a voice that made it obvious he'd started crying.

Harry set the mobile on the desk and looked at Sarah, drowsing on his shoulder. 'Think you can handle letting Auntie Ginny spoil you for a bit while I go talk to your dad?' Her face twisted and she began to wail. 'I'll bet you're hungry, too.' He went back into the sitting room, motioning to Teddy. 'Go out to Aaron's car, yeah? Check in the back for a changing bag. And if you don't mind, Lily's old travel cot is still in the attic. Can you bring it down and put it in James' room?'

'They staying the night?' Teddy asked.

'Might as well.' Harry handed Sarah to Ginny. 'Teddy's going to bring her bag in and fetch the travel cot down...'

'What happens?' Aaron asked abruptly. 'If I want you to do that thing to my memory?'

Harry paused in mid-step, about to explain, but Teddy answered before he could. 'Anything you want. I can make you forget everything or I can make you just forget Kathleen's death. If I do the former, you won't remember a thing, but you also won't be as vigilant if you had remembered anything. If I just make you forget about Kathleen, you'll have this vague uneasy feeling that something's not right. You'll still be worried, but you'll chalk it up to something you've read or heard from somewhere else. I can also do anything else in between those two extremes,' Teddy added.

'You can do all that?' Harry asked.

'It's why I'm an Obliviator and you're not,' Teddy retorted, with a hint of his teenage belligerence. He directed his attention to Aaron. 'Your car open? I'll bring Sarah's things in for you.'

'Yeah...' Aaron appeared dazed by the barrage of information Teddy had thrown at him.

Teddy began to walk toward the door. 'Just think about it,' he advised. 'We don't have to do anything right now...' His hand landed on the doorknob, and it opened under it, seemingly of its own accord.

'Harry, I've got great news!' Hermione said breathlessly.

'Can't it wait?' Harry asked irritably.

'No, it can't,' she said loftily. 'It's about Neville and Hannah.'

Harry glanced at his watch. 'You've got five minutes,' he growled.

'Fine.' Hermione sidled in past Teddy. 'So... There are five people in MLE whose job is to watch over children down for Hogwarts in Social Services, whether they're in foster care or in the process of adoption... Just to make sure they're not mistreated in any way...' Harry's eyebrow rose slowly. 'That wasn't why, but it did make much more sense to keep an eye out for them, and try to place them with a magical family, if they were going to be adopted. At any rate,' she continued, 'there's a baby available for adoption. And I can make sure Hannah and Neville are on the top of the list, if they want him.

'He's about a year old and his parents were killed in a car accident last week. They've done some checking, and they don't have any other family that we know of or can find.'

'That's rather convenient,' Harry sighed.

'Well, it does help,' Hermione muttered. 'However, he's theirs, if Neville and Hannah want him...'

'How is that going to work?' Harry moved aside to allow Teddy back inside the house with Sarah's changing bag.

'One of those five people I told you about works in Social Services. Sort of undercover. She'll arrange everything. She's been working overtime, trying to make sure he's eligible for adoption. She can handle everything for Hannah and Neville. She can even use the paperwork Neville and Hannah filed with MLE ten years ago. All we have to do is update it. But I need a definitive answer by Monday morning.'

Harry slowly exhaled. 'Okay... One thing at a time...' He ran his hands through his hair. 'First Dudley, then Neville and Hannah...'

'When?' Hermione demanded.

'I'll try to get up to Hogwarts by Sunday, but I can't promise anything.' Harry suddenly rounded on Hermione. 'Why in the hell won't you go?'

Hermione gaped at Harry. 'Oh... Right... I suppose I could go... I just thought since you brought it up, that you might want to be the one to talk to Neville...'

'Hermione, under normal circumstances, I would be very happy to go broach the subject with Neville, but I've got a rather lot on my plate just now.' Harry sighed and glanced into the sitting room, where Aaron slumped listlessly in the armchair. 'Thank you. For doing all of this for Nev... Now, I need to go.' Harry leaned down and brushed a light kiss over Hermione's cheek. He quickly walked toward the kitchen and picked up his coat from its hook by the door. Ginny was in the kitchen, rooting for a tea towel, Sarah balanced on one hip. 'You're all right with the two of them staying?' he asked her.

'Of course I am,' Ginny said, her voice soothing, as she helped Sarah take a bottle. 'No sense in sending them home at this hour of night.' She noticed the coat dangling from Harry's fingers. 'Where are you going?'

'Dudley. He's somewhat upset,' Harry said lamely.

'Obviously,' Ginny replied dryly.

'I'll be home in a few hours. I'll get you a message if I'm going to be later.' He kissed Ginny lingeringly and slipped into the back garden, cold, drizzly rain soon filling in the space where he was.

Ginny watched him Disapparate, nuzzling the silky curls adorning Sarah's head and met her dark grey eyes. 'How do you feel about a bath and bed, eh?' Sarah just gave her a snuffling exhalation and burrowed into Ginny's neck in reply. 'That's what I thought,' Ginny told her. She retraced her steps into the sitting room and settled on the sofa. 'Harry's gone to talk to Dudley,' she murmured to Aaron.

Aaron glanced up from his intense perusal of the surface of his tea. 'Oh.'

Ginny hesitated, then plunged ahead. 'Have you talked about any of this with him?'

Aaron shook his head. 'No.' He set the cup down and rested his elbows on his knees. 'It's not that I don't want to, but I can't...'

'Because why would you want to throw a spanner in the works, hmm?' Ginny snorted. 'Totally brilliant plan, Aaron. Seems to be working quite well.'

'And how would you know?' Aaron snarled softly.

'Quite a bit, actually,' Ginny said, unperturbed. 'I've lived this -' She gestured widely encompassing the room. 'For more than twenty years. The worry and I are quite old friends. And if I can be a bit pushy for a moment...' She paused delicately. 'You can't not talk about it,' Ginny said bluntly. 'You'll run mad if you don't talk about it.'

'What if it's one of us next...?' Aaron asked shakily.

'What if Dudley gets hit by a bus crossing the street?' Ginny countered. 'Or some nutter takes exception to your relationship and stabs you with a kitchen knife in an alley?' She pried the empty bottle from Sarah's pudgy hands, leaning forward to set it on the table. 'In the end, it's still the same result.'

xxxxx

Harry walked swiftly down the street toward Dudley's flat. He glanced in the shadows on the other side of the street and nodded at the disguised Auror leaning against the light post. He climbed the stairs to the front door and knocked softly. Dudley yanked open the door, pale and trembling, his dark blonde hair sticking up in wild abandon. 'Are they...?'

'They're fine,' Harry assured Dudley. 'Tired, but fine...' He nearly fell over when Dudley threw his arms around him. Staggering, Harry managed to keep his feet. He patted Dudley weakly on his back, while he maneuvered the both of them into the entryway of the flat. 'Come on; let's go sit down, then, eh?' He steered Dudley into the sitting room and deposited the taller man into a chair.

Dudley seemed to collapse into himself. 'They're my life,' he said hoarsely, gazing down at his hands, nervously twisting the engraved gold band around his ring finger.

'I know,' Harry murmured.

'Do you think he's left me?'

Harry straightened, startled. 'Why do you ask?'

'If you came home from work one day, expecting to see your spouse and child, and they weren't here, and didn't show up after a normal amount of time, and none of your friends have seen them, what would you think?' Dudley snapped.

'Stop being a tosser for a minute and think, would you?' Harry retorted. 'How did you feel the first time you saw magic like that?'

'You mean when that big bloke tried to turn me into a pig?' Dudley said sardonically. 'Bloody scared me.'

'You haven't had very good experiences with magic,' Harry sighed, flicking his wand toward the table. A plate of sandwiches appeared, making Dudley blink. Another flick brought a gently steaming pot of tea. He glanced at his cousin, staring at him, slightly open-mouthed. 'It's not always a bad thing,' Harry huffed, nodding toward his wand. 'You've just had the misfortune to always see it being used that way.'

'I suppose.'

'Aaron's just met me and my family. Knowing about magic and actually having to deal with it are two entirely different things.'

'I'm well aware of that,' Dudley grumbled.

'He's scared,' Harry said candidly. 'He's terrified that next time they won't miss.' He poured a cup of tea and handed it to Dudley. 'Drink that. My mother-in-law is keen on making people tea when they've been upset.' Harry poured one for himself and fixed Dudley with a considering look. 'You know... When Albus was born, I was working on something rather sensitive, and made the colossal mistake to decide not to talk about it with Ginny. In hindsight, it was a rather stupid thing to do. Made everything so much worse. In the end, I had to meet her in the middle. Tell her just enough so she wasn't in the dark, but keep enough of it to myself so she didn't have another worry.'

'So what are you saying?'

'I'm saying you need to sit down with Aaron and talk about your options. Keeping Ginny completely uninformed backfired, but if I'd told her everything she would have been needlessly worried. Maybe he could go somewhere between that. If he has it all wiped out, he might get complacent. If he doesn't get quite enough, he'd still be in a state over it.' Harry took a sip of tea. 'How would you feel if he had his memory modified?'

'That's his decision, and if it helps Aaron sleep at night, then it's fine. Why?'

'Just checking... I think he's leaning in that direction.' Harry picked up a sandwich, suddenly hungry. 'However, I think the two of you need to talk before he does it.' He bit ravenously into the sandwich. 'Otherwise, he might not understand what you're talking about...'

xxxxxx

Hermione smiled brightly at her mother, her cheeks aching with the effort of trying to stay positive. Jane nattered on about a patient that Hermione was certain now had children of her own. Every week, she noticed Jane slipping away bit by bit, struggling to remember even Hermione's name. Rose and Hugo had already faded somewhat. Jane would look at their photographs on the bureau, and Hermione could see the fog settle over her eyes, as she stared at them intently, searching for their names, and why those photographs were sitting on her bureau. For some reason, Jane remembered Ron with a clarity she didn't remember anyone else. When he came with her to visit, Hermione tried to keep the hurt from her face and voice. Things where Jane were concerned were difficult enough as it was. But Ron saw through the forced cheeriness. He chose wisely, in Hermione's opinion, to not comment about it. Instead, he made pumpkin pasties for her, and talked about how well Jane was looking. It was true. The people who worked at the home took very good care of Jane, making sure her hair was brushed neatly, and helped her apply lipstick so it didn't smear over her teeth, and ensuring Jane was dressed in clean clothing every day. Sometimes, it seemed as if Jane liked them more than she liked her own daughter.

Hermione nodded and murmured appropriate comments when necessary. She almost felt relieved when a nurse came to fetch Jane for tea. She walked down the corridor with them, making idle conversation about the tantalizing aromas coming from the dining room. 'Bye, Mum,' Hermione said gaily, when Jane was seated. 'I'll see you next week.'

'Yes, of course...' Jane replied vaguely, her sparse white brows drawing together in a frown. Mercifully, she didn't flinch when Hermione bent to kiss her cheek.

Hermione burst out of the front door with a sigh, rotating her shoulders, in an attempt to work the strain from them. She glanced around furtively, then ducked around the corner of the building, Disapparating mid-step. Inside the building, an elderly man gasped. 'But she was just right there!' he exclaimed.

A nurse shook her head. 'No, Mr. Stevens, nobody was there...'

'But she was,' he insisted, pointing toward the window. The man continued to peer through the window, expecting to see Hermione appear as suddenly as she'd disappeared.

xxxxxx

Neville perched on a tall stool at one end of the counter, grading the seemingly endless stack of parchment in front of him. He winced as a particularly thick first year mislabeled aconite as asphodel. He was waiting for Hannah to finish organizing next week's schedule. Hermione slid onto the stool next to him. 'I have to ask you something,' she said without preamble, unable to handle the niceties of polite conversation just now.

'Rose is doing well, and Hugo's adjusting just fine. He's every bit as smart as Rose, just lax about his homework,' Neville said.

'It's not about my children, but I appreciate the update,' Hermione replied with a slight smile. 'It's about yours.'

'But I don't...' Neville trailed off. He slowly set his quill down on the diagram of Devil's Snare. 'What do you mean?' he asked tightly, staring at the graceful outline of a leaf.

Hermione inhaled slowly. 'Do you and Hannah still want to adopt a child?'

Neville's mouth worked soundlessly, before he choked, 'Yes... But... I...' He turned his wide hazel eyes to Hermione. 'How...?'

'He's a year old and his parents were killed in a car accident. They were Muggles, but he's down for Hogwarts. I sort of have someone on the inside at Social Services for things like this.'

Neville's face paled and slowly flushed painfully red. 'We haven't tried in ages,' he murmured. 'We weren't considered good candidates before. The paperwork the Ministry has for us must be hopelessly outdated...'

'Don't worry about it,' Hermione said airily. 'We'll take care of it. I just need you and Hannah to give me an answer...'

'Yes,' Neville blurted. 'Yes.'

xxxxxx

Teddy lay in bed, glaring at the ceiling. He'd crawled into his bed last night, closed his eyes, and... Nothing. He spent the night lying in a heap in the middle of the bed, watching the shadows dance mockingly across the ceiling as the hours ticked and flowed from night to the grey, watery light of dawn. Teddy seemed to be bound to bed, and his feeble attempts to get out of it were nearly pointless in their futility. He stayed in the bed as the light grew stronger and traveled across the floor, slowly dimming, marking the passage of the day. He stared at the pattern of the pillowcase under his cheek. Even if Harry hadn't indirectly voiced an accusation against him, Teddy realized he would have felt like he was responsible in some way for Kathleen. It sounded absolutely insane. But in spite of his protestations to the contrary, Teddy kept wondering. What if...?

Most of the time, Teddy didn't miss having parents. He had Harry and Ginny. And his grandmother. But every now and then, Teddy wished heartily Remus was still alive. His head listlessly turned on the pillow and his gaze fell on the line of journals that were lined up neatly on his bureau. He only had the series that encompassed the last few years of his father's life. The others were stored at Andromeda's house. He shoved the quilt aside and slid out of the bed, picking up a jumper that lay bundled on the floor next to the bed and jerked it over his head. He grabbed his trainers, sitting forlornly next to the bathroom door, and shoved his feet into them, not bothering to tie the laces. Before he could bother to question himself about it, Teddy darted out of the flat and Disapparated.

He stood outside his grandmother's house, dark and still in the crisp night. He slipped through the back door, with a grace he knew his mother might have envied, and toed off the trainers and padded up the stairs to the attic. Teddy headed straight for the box containing the rest of Remus' journals and pried off the lid. He thumbed through the earliest diary, not really reading, just skimming. He wasn't searching for anything in particular, just needed to feel the presence of his father in the only way he knew. As he finished a journal, he dug the next one from the box, wending his way through Remus' late adolescence and early adulthood.

Teddy came to a succession of passages that made him sit up slowly. They were written in the aftermath of Harry's parents' murders and Remus was painfully alone. He filled page after page of self-accusations and recriminations. He blamed himself for the Potters' deaths. Blamed himself for not being their Secret-Keeper. Cursed his lycanthropy for making him unfit to raise Harry. Teddy knew the circumstances that surrounded that event and knew his father was grasping at straws, looking for something and someone to blame and eventually turned on himself, even though there seemed to be nothing Remus could have done. Teddy also knew from later journals, there really hadn't been anything Remus could have done differently at the time. But years later, Remus would spend several more pages in harsh self-censure, upon finding out the horrible mistakes he had made when Harry was a baby, and twelve years later.

He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them, wrapping his arms around his bent legs. Hindsight was a cruel friend. Sitting in the cold, damp attic, Teddy realized there wasn't anything he could have done differently. But the fact he'd been friends with Joel made him feel filthy, like he could be condemned by the mere fact of it. He rubbed his face mechanically against the soft flannel of his pajama bottoms, wishing he could feel that brief, fleeting touch against the back of his head, like he had when he was at school, missing his parents and needing them terribly.