Phoenix Intuition

Chapter Four

It was a Sunday afternoon, and the time was four o'clock in the afternoon--in England, anyway. Harry had, as a phoenix, again scouted out that remote Hawaiian beach he'd had his eye on, and it was very helpful that at four p.m. in England, it was five a.m. in Hawaii. Harry teleported them onto an empty beach: himself, Ginny, James, Ron, Pansy, Neville, and Hermione. He had also teleported a small chest containing their supplies, such as suntan lotion and food, prepared by Dobby. Dobby had offered to bring them whatever food they wanted upon request, but they decided they would treat it as more of a picnic, and they could always heat the food magically if they wanted to. They conjured large towels and lay on them, one to each couple. They then took off their robes; the men wore only swimming trunks, and the women, bikinis. Sunburn was not a danger yet, but it would be in a few hours.

As Harry had planned, they were there in time to see the sunrise, which they all agreed was very nice. "Of course, you can see a sunrise whenever you want, now," pointed out Neville, to Harry. "It's always sunrise somewhere, you can just go there as a phoenix."

"Well, you can, too," responded Harry. "You can Apparate. It's just more convenient for me, since I can be in the air, and not have to worry about being seen. You'd have to research the Apparation points in the various countries. Or Flora or Red could take you, they'd be happy to."

Pansy and Hermione exchanged a glance. "I'm not sure we'd want to," said Hermione. "You know how that is, Harry. You hesitate to ask them things like that."

Harry humorously raised his eyebrows. "Ah, but as a part-time phoenix, I now know better. If it would make you happy, that's all they need to know."

Ron looked at Harry. "Oh, yeah, I haven't asked lately. How's that going? The phoenixing?"

Hermione gave him an amused glance. "That's a verb now, is it?"

Ron frowned. "Now, the verb, is that the one that describes things, or..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "John would love this," she said to Harry. Then she paused, and added, "You don't know what it is either, do you."

He chuckled. "It's the action word. But I only know that from being around John for six years in the staff room."

"Wow, you've been a teacher for six years," marveled Neville. "Time really flies..."

"Yes, it does. Anyway, Ron, the phoenixing is going fine. They're pretty much finished teaching me how to sing, or at least, they've taught me all they can. It's just a matter of time for me to get better."

"Want to do a little one for us?"

"Don't encourage him," said Ginny, a little more sharply than she meant to. "He'll have to turn into one, then after he sings he'll start flying, and we won't see him until we're ready to go home."

"I would not," he protested, feeling that she was exaggerating greatly, even though he understood why she was. Glancing around, he saw that it was no secret to his friends that though he felt he'd restrained himself well, Ginny was still unhappy with the amount of time he devoted to exploring being a phoenix. Contributing to the problem was that he tended to give her an estimate of how long he would be gone, only to exceed it a fair bit because being a phoenix was so enjoyable and he had no sense of time as a phoenix. "Maybe next Sunday at dinner," he suggested to Ron.

Ron nodded. "No worries, mate."

Neville chuckled. "Isn't that something they say in Australia?" asked Hermione.

"Jack spent three weeks there, just got back," said Neville. "He's been speaking with an Australian accent, and saying things like that, just for fun. He'll be pleased to know that he's influencing Ron."

"Well, he would if you told him, which you're not going to," put in Ron.

"Ah. Well, now I know."

"So, any Auror news?" asked Harry. "Other than Jack's travels?"

"Not much," said Neville. "Kingsley's meeting with Jackson tomorrow." To Ginny's glance, he added, "Trevor Jackson, head of the American Aurors. Apparently there's been a series of disappearances in America, including some fairly prominent people. Kingsley thinks Jackson's going to ask about your availability."

"Kingsley should tell him he can have him, as long as he doesn't mind having him as a phoenix," said Ginny, in a tone that was not quite serious and not quite joking. Harry sighed to himself and gave Ginny an unhappy look; she came back with one that said, 'if you don't want me to say things like that, then stop giving me reasons to.'

The others decided to ignore Ginny's comment. "Is it really that bad that they'd need Harry?" asked Hermione.

Ron shrugged. "Not yet, I think. Kingsley's not sure that's what Jackson will ask, he just thinks maybe he will. They'd be reluctant to ask, because it makes it seem like their Aurors can't handle it themselves. But when people start disappearing, everyone gets pretty anxious, partly because it's not just random killings, but it's obviously being planned. They also haven't found any obvious link connecting the people who've gone missing, so they have nothing to go on."

"I don't know what they think I could do, then," said Harry, now unhappy because of what Ginny had said. "I hope they know that I can't just wave my hand and find whoever it is."

"I think Kingsley will let him know, if he doesn't already," said Neville. Harry's abilities had been thoroughly tested by the Aurors after he'd graduated from Hogwarts, so Kingsley would be able to tell Jackson exactly what Harry could and couldn't do--and equally importantly, what he would and wouldn't do, the latter category including such things as Legilimency searches. Other wizards could do them, of course, but Harry could be sure of breaking through anyone's Occlumency shields.

Harry now smiled as he watched James frolic in the sand. "He's not much for the sunrise, but he does like it here." Ginny smiled as well, and leaned into Harry as he put an arm around her. He was still a little upset, as he was sure she was, but he never forgot that she was the woman he loved. We'll get past this phoenix thing, he thought. We've always managed, whatever it is.

"He really is cute," chuckled Pansy. "Not just how he looks, but how he acts. Just like he enjoys life, like he likes discovering things. Just a little bundle of energy. By the way, how's it going with him and Dobby?"

One of the more difficult conversations Harry and Ginny had ever had with Dobby had happened not long before James was born. Harry had learned that in families that had house-elves, the house-elf was sometimes the new baby's primary caregiver. Harry, Ginny, and Molly were all determined that that would not be the case with James, as they didn't want James thinking of Dobby as a parental figure. Many old wizarding families dealt with that problem by making sure the child understood that the house-elf was nothing more than a servant, but that was of course unacceptable to Harry and Ginny as well. On the other hand, they knew that Dobby would love James and want to take care of him as much as possible, and that he might easily take their attitude as an indication that they didn't trust him to take care of James. They had eventually managed to get across to Dobby how they felt; Dobby had been disappointed, but had done his best to accept Harry and Ginny's repeated reassurances that it had nothing to do with him personally. They did allow Dobby to care for James sometimes, and Dobby delighted in the opportunity.

"It's okay. Every time we ask Dobby to take care of him for a while, Dobby acts like it's Christmas morning. As James starts talking more, we'll have to make it clear to Dobby that he's not to follow any instructions James might try to give him, but he can agree to requests if he wants to. That sort of thing. He loves to play with James."

"We do too, of course," added Ginny. "When I'm not tired, that is. Sometimes I'm tired after a practice with the team, and keeping up with an energetic two-year-old isn't what I'm in the mood for. Thanks goodness for Mum. Harry, on the other hand, his job isn't physical at all, so when he gets home, he has plenty of energy to play."

As the sun started to climb into the sky, the women broke out the suntan lotion and made sure it was liberally applied, as none of the seven had skin that tanned especially well. Ron and Neville took turns playing with James, then they, Pansy, and Ginny went for a swim in the ocean. Harry kept an eye on them, as none were experienced ocean swimmers. At eight o'clock Hawaii time, they had their dinner, which Harry thought must have seemed strange to the few Muggles who'd made it out to the beach at an early hour. Most people didn't have such a big meal that early.

After dinner was eaten and cleaned up, all were full, so there wasn't much activity except for reading. James was full, too, but had enough energy to walk back and forth between the six, looking for attention. Ron played with him a little more, and Hermione used some seashells James had collected to try to teach him about numbers. Always the teacher, thought a bemused Harry. I wonder if her kids are going to take after her like that, if she has any. Probably not, and she'll be annoyed at them, telling them how much she studied when she was younger.

Harry half-noticed James make his way over to Pansy, then closed his eyes again. He tried to clear his mind, and found himself wondering when he would have a chance to be a phoenix again for a while. He felt that he shouldn't think about it, because he'd just done it for a few hours that morning, but it was a thought that came easily to mind. He wondered whose point of view would seem more reasonable to an outsider, his or Ginny's, then found himself wondering what Hermione thought, as he sometimes did through the link.

He hadn't intended to ask, but had sent it anyway. She responded by sending an impression of, there's no way I'm going to get in the middle of this. You know how she feels, you just have to find a point you're both comfortable with. I don't want you having an attitude of, Hermione thinks I'm right, so I must be right.

You know that's not it, he sent with mild annoyance. Sometimes you want to know what someone else thinks, someone who has nothing at stake.

I know, but there's a part of you that wants me to tell you you're not being unreasonable. My outside view is that an outside person can't possibly give an opinion, only partly because your situation is unique. I can say that if you want her not to be unhappy, to demonstrate good faith you should just not do it again until she tells you she doesn't mind if you do. She'll know you want to do it and why you're not.

She'd also know that I got the idea from you, that I'd never think of it myself, he sent humorously.

Maybe, but I can live with that. The point is that she'd be the one in control, not feeling powerless like she is now.

He sent his reluctance. No one's ever been a phoenix before, there's so much I can learn, isn't it natural that I'd want to--

Their silent debate was interrupted by Pansy's gasp of shock, followed by James's startled yelp. Everyone looked in their direction, concerned. James now looked frightened, and ran to Ginny as if wanting her protection from something. "What happened?" asked Harry.

Pansy looked awed and afraid, seeming not to know how to say what she needed to say. "I was... playing with him, or kind of letting him play around me. He was touching my stomach, just messing around, I think looking at my belly button..." She paused and took a breath. "Then he started touching me, just with one finger, I wasn't looking at first, but it felt unusual, so I looked down to see what he was doing. He did the same thing again... he moved his finger like this." She put her finger at the bottom of her stomach and moved it up a few inches, then down and to the right, then up again.

"Oh, my God," said Harry softly. "That's where Malfoy cut you."

"The exact place, the exact way," she confirmed.

"But how? How did he know?" wondered Harry aloud. "There's no scar, right?" He bent over to look more closely.

"No, Harry. There wasn't then, and there isn't now."

"Could there be some sort of... magical imprint?" asked Neville. "Fawkes cried on it, maybe there's something, that James somehow saw." James was now crying in Ginny's arms, Ginny trying to follow the conversation and soothe James at the same time.

"I don't think so," said Ron, looking ashen.

Hermione caught Ron's expression. "What are you thinking, Ron?"

Ron gulped. "Remember two weeks ago, when James suddenly started screaming for no reason?" The others nodded. "I think none of you noticed it, but the last words that were said before that were Mum's. She was shouting, 'not yet, not yet,' then he started screaming his head off. Those were... I told you at the time, maybe I remember it better because I was there. Those were the last words Draco Malfoy said before he died."

Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Neville looked at each other in amazement. "What are you suggesting?" asked Neville. "That there's some sort of link between James and Malfoy? James is somehow tapping into events from our past?"

Ron looked desperately sad. "I would so love to be wrong... but to tell you the truth, I even had this thought two weeks ago."

It finally dawned on Harry what Ron was getting at. He was so astonished he could barely speak. "You mean... you think that he is Malfoy, that Malfoy was reincarnated as James?"

"It would make sense," said Ron. "He could be having... memories from a previous life, and things he hears and sees could be reminders. Seeing Pansy's stomach, hearing those words..."

Very emotional, still holding James, Ginny gave her brother a scornful glare. "You're out of your mind."

Ron started to respond, but was interrupted by Pansy. "I think... I think Ron may be right, though I hate to say it. There was something else, when he did that. When I looked down, he was looking up at me... and it wasn't an expression I've ever seen on James. His eyes... he was looking at me like Malfoy did then, as if he was enjoying it. Not an innocent, two-year-old enjoyment, but a Malfoy kind." Pansy still looked shaken.

Ginny was even more agitated. "You're both insane," she whispered fiercely. "There is no way our son is Draco Malfoy."

"'Used to be', not 'is'," corrected Hermione.

Ginny whirled on Hermione. "What, now you believe this too?"

"Ginny, he's not being accused of anything--"

"Pansy," said Harry firmly. "Can I get the memory from you, with Legilimency? Hermione too?" Pansy nodded. Hermione raised her wand; Harry, of course, didn't need to. A few seconds later, Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of dread.

"What?" demanded Ginny. "What did you see?"

"I can make an image of it, so you, Ron, and Neville can see it," said Harry. He did so, and there was soon an image in the air of James, his finger moving along Pansy's stomach. He was looking at her face... Harry saw evil and malevolence in James's eyes, and it sickened him. In that instant, he was sure that Ron was right. Oh, my God, he thought, what has fate done to us...

Ginny now started to cry, and Hermione took James from her and held him. "It doesn't have to mean that," sobbed Ginny. "It could be something else... some weird kind of magical... I don't know, but something. Life can't be that cruel..."

Harry didn't know what to think, but he knew James was his son and he loved him, no matter what. He spoke to the group, but mainly Hermione. "Is there any way to find out? Albus talked about reincarnation, but only generally. What do we know about this sort of thing, how it works?"

Hermione shrugged. "I've read about it, but not that much--"

Pansy cut her off. "I may know more about it than Hermione. This sort of thing was discussed a little in my Healer training. It was mainly in the context of talking about how some medical conditions have their root in the events of past lives. Someone who has bad asthma might have died in a fire in the last life, someone who has back pain might have been stabbed in the back, that sort of thing. A few Healers, very few, specialize in hypnotic regression and deal with this kind of problem. It's only a few because this kind of thing is pretty rare, there's not much call for it. And James is so young, I'm not sure they could determine anything. But it would be worth a try."

"Where would we go?" asked Harry.

"I'm not sure exactly, but when she talked about it, Healer Haspberg said she knew of a few who did it, so I'm sure she could tell me."

"I want you to ask her," said Harry.

"Okay, when?"

"Now. The day at the beach is over. Find out where she is, ask her to get you in touch with whoever does this. You or she can use my name if it'll help." Harry used the phrase 'use my name' extremely rarely, but he couldn't stand to see Ginny suffer; he knew she wouldn't sleep until she found out. He hated to incur favor-debts, but for this he would, if necessary.

Hermione handed James to Neville and started gathering their things. "Okay," said a slightly surprised Pansy, "if you'll send me to St. Mungo's, I'll find out where she is."

"First, I'll check to see if she's there," said Harry. "Which floor is her office on?"

"Ninth, the east end of the building."

Harry's remote eye quickly scanned the floor. "Great, she's there. I'll go with you. You guys wait here, we'll come straight back when we're done."

"Um, Harry," pointed out Pansy, "we're not wearing much in the way of clothes--"

Pansy was instantly wearing green Healer robes; Harry, crimson Auror robes. Both were wearing brown sandals. "Is this okay?"

She gave him a wry glance. "It'll do for now. But I haven't been dressed by anyone else since I was four."

"Sorry. I'm in kind of a hurry." Look after Ginny, Harry sent to Hermione, try to reassure her, make her feel better. She sent her acknowledgement, and he leaned over and kissed Ginny, who still looked despondent. "We'll be back soon." Harry and Pansy vanished.

Thirty minutes later, Harry, Ginny, James, and Pansy materialized in the outer office of a Brazilian Healer, a woman named Angela Vasquez. The secretary's eyebrows rose on seeing them; Harry assumed it was because there hadn't been the popping noise of an Apparation. Harry activated his translation charm and approached her. "We need to see the Healer, it's kind of an emergency."

The woman nodded. "Your name, please?"

"Harry Potter."

Now, the woman's eyebrows went as high as they would go. Wow, I'm even famous in Brazil, he thought. "Just a moment, please."

After a five-minute wait, he and the others were ushered back to the Healer's office, and they exchanged introductions with the Healer. "I'm very pleased, and even more surprised, to meet you," she said humorously. She appeared in her early forties, with dark skin and black shoulder-length hair in a ponytail. "I assume you've come all this way because you need someone with my particular experience, and that it involves the young man here. And that Healer Parkinson is his usual healer."

"And a close family friend, yes, but she's also involved in the incident that brings us here," said Harry, who then launched into the story of what had happened on the beach, adding background details from their history with Malfoy as necessary. Vasquez listened, fascinated. James was silent, with an expression that suggested that he feared he'd done something very wrong.

"All right, I think I know what I need to know, for now," said Vasquez. "Mrs. Potter, I should tell you first that even if it is what you fear, it's not as bad as I think you believe it is. How familiar are you with reincarnation?"

Harry answered. "We know the basics of it, really. That it's how spirits get a variety of experiences and circumstances as they learn about... life, themselves, whatever. That's about what we know."

"Well, I'll tell you more details, which should be helpful to understand. First of all, if it is in fact Draco Malfoy's spirit that is now your son's spirit, it does not mean that he is somehow evil, or less worthwhile, or any different from anyone else. Spirits are not evil in and of themselves; the people who they inhabit may commit evil deeds, but those are very different things. Spirits are fundamentally based in the energy of creation, which is love. What makes us good or evil are the choices we make in any given lifetime; our circumstances influence our choices, but do not control them. Draco Malfoy was evil because he was raised to be evil, not because he had an evil spirit. Some people become evil due to horrific events in their lives, and a few do for no discernible reason. Even for them, it had nothing to do with their spirit per se."

"So, our spirits aren't responsible for what we do?" asked a slightly confused Pansy. "They have no influence?"

"Yes, this can get tricky," agreed the Healer. "There is a distinction between 'you' and 'your spirit.' 'You' are your conscious self, your ego, in a sense. 'Your spirit' is... a greater entity, if you will; 'you' are a part of it, the part that operates in the physical world. Your 'spirit' does not make decisions; your conscious self does that. It can help you, through what we call intuition. Your spirit absorbs your experience, and your past identity after you die. All spirits are different because they have different experiences, yet fundamentally the same. All humans are different, yet fundamentally the same. Consider an analogy based on the idea of you, and your experiences. You are not your experiences, but they shape who you are. Your various lives are in a sense experiences for your spirit. Their identities are absorbed into your spirit, but they generally do not affect your current life. If they did, it would defeat the purpose of reincarnation, and we might just as well live one very long life. One life has little to do with the previous one, except to add to the spirit's experience. For example, Mr. Potter--"

"Harry."

"Harry, you've discovered a new form of magical energy that could revolutionize the wizarding world. You've defeated evil, and are obviously a good man and a loving parent. I ask you, were you a mass murderer in the life before this one?"

Harry's eyebrows went up. After a pause, he answered, "I don't know."

She nodded. "I don't know either, but I will stand here and tell you that it is entirely possible. And if you were, it would have nothing to do with your current life, except that it was experience for your spirit."

"So, am I nothing more than experience for my spirit? After I die, what will happen to whatever it is that makes me me?"

"You mean, what will happen to your conscious self, which you identify as 'you'. It will not die, but it is only part of you, the 'real' you, which is your spirit. Your conscious self will remain a part of your overall self, or 'spirit', and after you die, it will no longer operate as a conscious self in this plane, though it may do so in the spiritual plane if it chooses. This is where things start to get difficult. You--your conscious self--are both an independent entity, in a sense, and a part of a whole. But we are getting further and further away from the current situation.

"If your son's spirit's experience includes having lived the life of Draco Malfoy, the only way it will affect the life of James Potter is in situations like this, in which memory from one life creeps into another. You need not worry about your son being like Draco Malfoy; there is no greater a chance that he will than anyone else."

"What about that look in his eyes?" asked Pansy. "Is that something that could somehow creep into his character? It was almost as though Malfoy had taken over or something." She glanced at Ginny, who winced, and Harry could tell that Pansy regretted having asked the question.

Vasquez shook her head. "It was just part of the memory. James has access to Draco Malfoy's memories, as we all do of our past lives at an unconscious level. James is so young that his... 'thinking,' or reasoning process, isn't fully formed, so it was more natural for him to experience the memory by acting it out than by just remembering it. That sort of thing is very rare, and probably won't happen again."

"How did--" started Harry, but was interrupted by an impatient Ginny. "Can we just do this, and have the rest of this conversation afterwards? I'd really like to find out."

Harry shrugged lightly, an unspoken apology to Vasquez for Ginny's brusqueness. "How does this work?"

"I'm not even certain that it will work," warned the Healer. "It's very unusual to try it on someone so young. I'll give him a potion, perfectly harmless, to assist him in getting to the state we need him to be in. He needs to relax enough for this to work." She reached across her desk and handed James a piece of chocolate, which he eagerly accepted. "It has a very mild sedative in it," she explained.

"Enough to compensate for how hyper the chocolate will make him?" asked Ginny.

"A little more than that, yes," said Vasquez humorously. "The potion is one that will encourage his unconscious to surface. When I do this with adults, it's usually not necessary to use the potion, and I find that recall is clearer without the potion. I use it for adults who have a difficult time reaching the necessary state. In this case, I have no choice, since he's too young to follow instructions on how to get there. I'll do what I can, but we'll just have to wait and see."

"After you give him the potion, what happens then?" asked Pansy.

"Normally, I would guide the patient to a state of mind from which past-life memories can be accessed, then ask questions. In this case, I'll do my best, but he won't be able to answer questions, as he's too young. Normally, this would be useless. But I understand that you, Harry, are a Legilimens. You'll need to access his recent memories; that's the only way we can know." Vasquez helped James up onto a reclining chair, and had him drink the potion.

"Would it help if I did the Imperius Charm on him?" asked Harry. "Told him to recall memories of his most recent life?"

"I don't know, I've never had the opportunity to use that before. Let's keep that in reserve for now, though." She turned to James and spoke soothingly, bidding him to relax. For ten minutes, however, he refused to relax, his eyes darting all around. He tried to get up twice. Finally, Vasquez turned to Harry. "This is why I don't usually try this on such young people. It's important to try, and be able, to relax. I'm about ready to have you use your spell, because this isn't going to work otherwise. But for now, don't use it to get him to recall anything, just have him relax, to not move or think. Just relax completely."

Harry cast the Imperius Charm on his son, who brightened, then started to relax. He was soon in just the state Vasquez wanted him in. "James, I want you to remember when you were big. Now you're James, but before that, you were someone else. Let memories come to you." She turned to Harry. "Can you reduce the intensity of that spell?"

"No. It's all or nothing."

"James," said Vasquez softly. "Can you remember?"

"I'm hurting Mummy..." Harry, Ginny, and Pansy exchanged startled looks.

"Shut it off. I'm concerned about something," instructed Vasquez.

"What is--"

"Shut it off, now!"

Alarmed, Harry did so. James suddenly screamed, then started wailing and crying. "I hurt Mummy, I hurt Mummy..."

"Do Legilimency on him quickly, see what he saw." Harry quickly did. "Are you finished?" He nodded. She waved her wand, and James went silent, a blank look on his face. "I gave him a Memory Charm, to mitigate the damage."

"What damage?" asked a very emotional Ginny. To Harry, she asked, "What did you see? What did he see?"

Harry took a deep breath. "He saw Malfoy torturing you in the Chamber of Secrets. It is him, his spirit, whatever you want to call it."

"I don't believe it..." Ginny mumbled in despair, bowing her head. Harry put an arm around her. "It'll be all right," he assured her. To Vasquez, "You said, mitigate the damage. What damage?"

The Healer was upset at herself. "Nothing serious, and it's likely that there's no damage at all. I didn't expect that to happen. He's fine now, he'll be recovering from the Memory Charm in a minute. But it's better if he's not here when we talk about this. We should send him outside."

Harry focused his remote eye on his home, where Hermione, Neville, and Ron were waiting. He sent James there with a thought, mentally asking Hermione to look after him carefully and make sure he was occupied. She sent that they would. "He's at home, being looked after," Harry reported to Vasquez.

"That must be convenient," she remarked. To Harry and Ginny, she said, "As I said, I'm almost certain he'll suffer no ill effects because of my mistake."

"What mistake?" asked Harry and Ginny in unison.

"This is a very unusual case," the Healer explained. "He's very young, his most recent life was filled with hatred and violence, and I allowed myself to be influenced by your strong desire to know whether or not it was true. I did not use my best professional judgment. I should have told you that it was not in his best interest to have this done, that he was too young, and finding out would have to wait until he was older, or became more symptomatic. I also should not have had you use the Imperius Charm; as Healer Parkinson no doubt knows, one should never use a treatment or instrument which one does not know well.

"I should explain that the fact that he recently experienced associations from a past life is not so uncommon, especially for his age. Children from ages two to five sometimes experience flashes of such memory, and in rare instances, much more than a flash. Instances have been recorded of very young children speaking languages they had never been exposed to, walking around foreign neighborhoods with the knowledge of a native, that sort of thing. It is common at this age because children's minds are very open; the child's 'ego structure' is not yet fully formed, and no one has discouraged them from taking this sort of information seriously, as many parents do.

"The danger was in the fact that I believe he is not ready for the information he saw, which was the reason for my belated Memory Charm. Instant associations with outside stimuli, such as a particular phrase or Healer Parkinson's stomach, are one thing; viewing an image of deliberate torture is very much another. He's not old enough to understand what it means. When he saw that, he thought that he had done that to you. 'I hurt Mummy.' The only reason he didn't cry out in alarm as soon as he saw that was that the Imperius Charm was being used, and the euphoria it causes repressed that reaction. Given more time, he could have recalled any number of horrific images and memories, and we wouldn't have known until the Charm was removed, by which time serious damage could have been done, Memory Charms notwithstanding. People normally, in regression, do not see what they cannot handle seeing; it's as if the spirit is supervising. The Imperius Charm overrode his self-preservation instinct, and caused him to recall images he could not process correctly. I am very sorry about that."

"It was my idea to use it," said Harry ruefully.

"I'm the Healer, and responsible for the treatment," she countered. "It's my job to know what negative effects were possible."

"If he does suffer any damage from this, what would it be?" asked Pansy. "How would it manifest?"

"Nightmares, probably. People do dream of events covered by Memory Charms; though they do not usually recall the dreams, there are exceptions. It should not be an issue in his day-to-day life, even in the worst case. He could--again, this is the worst case--suffer anxiety, and other such symptoms of having been through a traumatic experience, though this was quite brief and soon covered."

"Why should there be any damage, if he won't remember it?" asked Harry.

Pansy answered before Vasquez could. "Trauma can cause psychological damage that covering the memory won't erase. For example, your first serious trauma was when you saw Cedric killed, then Voldemort come back. If Dumbledore had given you a Memory Charm to make you forget what happened, you still would have felt unsettled, still would have had nightmares. In fact, it would have been worse, since you wouldn't have known why you were having those reactions. Early in Healer training, they teach you that you can't make trauma go away with Memory Charms, and you shouldn't try. It would erase the anxiety caused by the conscious memory, but the deeper damage would still be there. I think Healer Vasquez is saying that we can't know exactly what if any trauma was inflicted on James by seeing that memory. But I agree with her that it should be minimal, if there is any at all. It wasn't for long, and kids are resilient. If there is any damage, it should come out when he interacts with you, Ginny."

Ginny was following the conversation, but her mind was reeling. Draco Malfoy! She was appalled that part of whatever had been Malfoy was now her son. It was too much to accept; she desperately wanted it not to be true. She tried to banish the thoughts and focus. "Why me?"

"Because the memory he saw concerned you," explained Vasquez. "He may behave hesitantly or afraid around you at times, not knowing why. If you love him unreservedly and demonstrate that nothing is wrong, any such damage will likely soon pass. If you behave the same way with him--treat him as if he were Draco Malfoy--the problem, if there is one, could become worse. The best thing you can do is be your usual self."

Ginny slowly nodded. Harry looked at her, concerned. He could see her emotions in her eyes. He kissed her forehead. "He's still our son."

"This doesn't bother you?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm not happy. I wish it hadn't happened, and I'm concerned for James. But he's James, not Malfoy. You heard what they said. It's not as though he's going to be evil. You heard Healer Vasquez say that I could have been a mass murderer in my last life. Would knowing that change how you felt about me?"

"Of course not," she said with annoyance and pain. "This just... feels different. It's bound to, considering my experience with Malfoy." To Harry and Pansy, she said, "Mum has to know about this, so we'll tell her and Dad. But apart from them, and the six of us, no one's going to know about this."

"Of course," agreed Pansy. Harry nodded. They talked for another few minutes, and said their goodbyes to Healer Vasquez. As they started to leave the office, Ginny turned to Vasquez. "You have experience with this kind of thing. Do you have any idea why this happened? There are millions of families he could have been born into. Why us? Did fate decide that we were too happy and comfortable and give us another problem, as if we hadn't already been through enough for a few lifetimes? Why?"

"I don't know," responded Vasquez; Harry got the immediate sense that she was lying, or holding back. Not from Legilimency, but from experience associated with it. "I can tell you," she continued, "that spirits choose their next incarnation. He chose you, for whatever reason."

"Because he was an evil bastard and wanted us to suffer?" lamented Ginny.

"His spirit chose you, not his earthly personality," emphasized Vasquez. "His spirit, as I have said, is not evil. The reasons he chose you would have to do with his soul's progress and education, not to make you suffer as an objective."

"Healer, this business about choosing made me remember something. The last time I spoke to Draco Malfoy was a time when we both knew he was going to be executed. The last words he ever spoke to me were, 'You'll see me again, Potter, but you won't know it's me until it's too late.'" Ginny blanched at the memory. "I assumed at the time that it was an empty threat, based on the idea of using Polyjuice Potion. Is there any way, some obscure magic, that he could have actually decided this at that time? Kept more of his personality than usual, used James as a bridge to come back and hurt us somehow?" Ginny looked terrified at the very notion.

"Absolutely not," said Vasquez firmly. "Magic cannot influence such things, and people like him didn't believe in an afterlife anyway, so they would never have even considered such a thing. It is as I told you: that boy is James Potter, nothing more. His spirit's past lives are utterly irrelevant, except insofar as the memory of them could cause difficulties. The sooner both of you accept that, the better off James will be. Love him as you always have, and it will be all right."

"I can do that," agreed Harry, who did not consciously register that Ginny didn't make the same affirmation. "Thank you, Healer."

They turned to leave, Harry behind Pansy and Ginny. When Pansy and Ginny turned their heads and were no longer looking in his direction, Harry stopped time in the area surrounding only him and Vasquez, and turned back to the very surprised Healer. "You weren't quite telling the truth before," he said, in a neutral tone. "You do know why he chose us."

She raised her eyebrows. "Legilimency?"

"Just a feeling."

"Based on my experience, and your situation, I have a strong suspicion," she admitted. "But I could be wrong, and in any case it's not for me to say. I will only say, with confidence, that it is not to hurt or terrorize you. By the way, it was a very poor idea to ask that last question in front of your wife. She's clearly having a very hard time with this, and doesn't need more negative ideas to dwell on. She needs to be given very positive reinforcement."

Harry felt mildly offended on Ginny's behalf. "She's an adult," he protested. "She's been through a lot of stuff, she doesn't need to be shielded or protected--"

"Yes, she has been through a lot, and that's why you have to consider her mental state carefully," Vasquez countered. "I'm not saying she's not strong, but we all react in different ways to different things. I'm simply saying that you should focus on the positive. When we fear something, it's easy to latch onto ideas that reinforce your fear."

"She spent over a year living in fear for my life, when Voldemort was trying to kill me every other day. She got through that all right."

"This is different. This is her child. She fears that he's been... infected, compromised, turned evil from the inside out. As a Healer, I'm confident that that's not the case. As a mother, I don't know that I wouldn't feel the same way she does. It's a terrifying thought. She needs your support."

"She'll get it," said Harry confidently. "And, thank you again."

Vasquez nodded. Harry turned around, and started time again.

* * * * *

Later that night, Harry and Ginny were sitting on the sofa in their spacious living room. They had just finished putting James to bed; to Harry's relief, he had shown no ill effects from what had happened earlier. Some day at the beach that was, thought Harry.

He moved closer to her, pulling her head to rest against his shoulder. "How're you doing?"

She sighed. "When this happened, I felt like I was going to be sick. I still feel that way a little. I just can't stop thinking that somehow he did plan it. I mean, what he said to you that day, it just fits so perfectly..."

"She said it's impossible."

"What if she's wrong? She said she made a mistake because she didn't think about how the Imperius Charm worked, maybe she's made a mistake about this too."

"I don't think so," he argued. "What she said really sounds right. I really think magic can't affect the spiritual realm, things just don't work the same way. And he didn't believe in an afterlife. I really think it's inconceivable. Just because she made one mistake doesn't mean any particular thing she says is wrong."

"Maybe," she conceded. "I don't know, I'm just scared."

He squeezed her. "It'll be all right. This will pass."

She gave him a 'what are you talking about?' glance. "Draco Malfoy was reincarnated as our son. That will never pass, we're stuck with it."

"I meant that I don't think he'll suffer for it," clarified Harry. "We just have to remember that he's a totally separate person from Malfoy. He's happy, he's active, he responds well to love... not very Malfoy-ish, it seems to me."

She nodded, but said nothing. After a moment, he Summoned a book from their bedroom and opened it. "You know, if you want to, you should go be a phoenix for awhile," she offered.

"Really? I thought you thought I was doing that too much."

"I shouldn't try to control what you do."

"I see. When did this new way of thinking start?"

She glared at him; he sighed. "It was a joke."

"Not a very funny one. And I've told you it's not a good idea to make jokes that have a suggestion that I did something wrong, because some jokes aren't really jokes."

"That was meant as a joke. Seriously, there was nothing to it. I know you don't try to control what I do." He paused. "You're really sure, you don't mind?"

"Yes, I'm sure. There's plenty of things I can do."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll try not to be too long." He kissed her on the cheek, became a phoenix, and was gone. Ginny lay flat on the sofa, thinking.

That idiot, thought Hermione, as she looked at the book she'd become distracted from by Harry's emotions coming through as they had. Based on his reactions, she could guess how their conversation had gone. She's not acting too bright either, but especially he should know better.

Hermione normally tried to avoid thinking consciously about Harry's affairs, since she could accidentally send what she was feeling. But Harry was now a phoenix, so she didn't have to worry about it. She was sure she understood what was happening: Ginny told Harry he could go because she wanted him to choose to stay anyway, proving he valued her over being a phoenix. Harry took her assurances at face value instead of doing what he thinks is best for her, because being a phoenix is what he wants to do. Since she told him he could, he's off the hook. Damn them.

She wanted to have Flora tell Harry to come back, go to their home, and talk some sense into them, but of course she couldn't; she had long since learned not to get in the middle of their problems, especially when she got her information through their link. Once while Ginny was pregnant with James, Harry and Ginny had been having an argument, and at one point Harry had started off a sentence with the unfortunate words, 'Hermione thinks...' Ginny had been livid, as the argument had nothing to do with Hermione, and Hermione was dragged into it against her will. Since then, Hermione had been very circumspect about anything connected to a possible conflict between Harry and Ginny, trying to avoid seeming to take sides or commenting too much. Harry had assured her that he wouldn't make the same mistake again, and she knew he was sincere, but she still tried to be careful.

She felt awful for them; she could only imagine how she would feel if it were her child. It had to be scary for Ginny; Hermione felt she shouldn't be alone. But Hermione hesitated to go see Ginny, thinking that perhaps hers wasn't the face Ginny needed to see right then. They were still good friends, but a slight distance had opened up between them over the past few years because of her link with Harry. Hermione thought Ginny felt that Hermione would tend to take Harry's side of a problem, or be more inclined to see things from his point of view. She tried to think about what would be helpful for Ginny...

Ginny heard the pop of an Apparation, followed by, "Anyone home?" She sat up on the sofa. "Neville! What are you doing here?"

"I can't just decide to pop in? Hermione's reading, and I wanted to see how you were doing."

"You mean, Hermione noticed that Harry became a phoenix, and decided that I needed your company," Ginny corrected him, her tone making it clear that she was happy to see him.

"Well, maybe, but what is said was still true." Neville paused, then whispered, "Actually, I'm here to resume our torrid affair."

Ginny laughed. It was a joke they'd started at the beginning of Neville's seventh year at Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione were both busy--him teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts while still a student, her being Head Girl, and both practicing Legilimency with each other--and were often absent from the Gryffindor common room, which often meant that Neville and Ginny were the only two of their group there. The joke had its basis in the fact that they had gone to the Christmas Ball together, the only year it had been held. It had been awkward for both of them, but they'd managed to have a good time. Three years later Ginny reminded Neville of that, and joked that they would now have many chances to continue their 'torrid affair,' and it had become a running joke for the two of them all year. "I'd almost forgotten about that," she chuckled.

Neville affected a disappointed expression. "Must not have been as torrid as I thought, then. Of course, when I was fourteen, just going to a dance with a girl was pretty torrid, for me."

"You were sweet then, and you're sweet now," smiled Ginny. "Thank you, Neville. You've always been able to make me laugh, and I really need that right now."

"James is in bed?"

She nodded. "Then I told Harry to go and be a phoenix. I know it's what he wants to do anyway, and I don't want him sitting around wishing he were somewhere else. He's not doing me any good if that's the case."

"He may not have been wishing especially," suggested Neville. "Maybe after you said that to him, he thought it meant you needed to be alone."

"Did Hermione tell you that?"

Neville shook his head. "I wouldn't be here then, would I? No, I have no idea what he thought, and I think she'd rather not know either. I think she's happy when he's a phoenix because she doesn't have to worry about thinking too loud."

"I guess there's a point," Ginny agreed. "Sometimes it bugs me, but sometimes I feel sorry for them. It's this thing they can't control. Like, Voldemort's legacy."

"I think she actually used that phrase once," said Neville.

"Were you going to ask me how I felt about the James thing?"

Again, Neville shook his head. "Not especially. I assumed you'd talk about it if you wanted to, or maybe you don't want to think about it. I have no idea what might be best for you. I just wanted you to have someone to talk to, if you wanted to."

"I'm just so glad this isn't public, I don't think I could take it. Of course, not everyone believes in reincarnation anyway." She paused; Neville could see the pain in her eyes. "I'm scared, Neville. I'm scared that I won't be able to love him the way I used to. And that I just used the words 'used to.' This whole thing is so awful..."

"You'll be able to," Neville assured her. "You just have to adjust, get used to it."

"Harry's had no trouble," said Ginny unhappily. "He was playing with James before bed like he usually does, James was laughing, being his usual self, Harry was telling James how much he loves him. Why am I so bothered by this when Harry's not? There must be something wrong with me..."

"There isn't," said Neville. "People react differently to things, is all. You and Harry just have different personalities. If he was reacting like you, you wouldn't feel so bad, because you'd feel like it was more natural. You could help each other feel better about it. I'm pretty sure he'd want to help you."

"He's said that, tonight, and he's tried to talk to me about it... I think I just need time, I don't think anything he says is going to help." She paused, then smiled. "But I'm glad you're here. You can make me laugh some more."

He smiled in return. "I'll do my best. And then I'll treat you to some of that hot, hot Longbottom lovin'."

Ginny laughed loudly. "I bet Hermione loves it when you do that with her."

"Oh, no, she can't take it," replied Neville, deadpan and earnest. "I'm too much man for her."

Ginny laughed again, not for the last time of the evening. She later reflected that it was an indication of how much Hermione cared for her that she sent Neville over, knowing that he could help her more than Hermione herself could.

* * * * *

"Now, there are just a few more budgetary concerns. I direct your attention to scroll three, line two hundred twenty-five..."

For the tenth time in the last hour, Minerva McGonagall repressed an urge to roll her eyes as she found the proper line on the proper scroll. As headmistress of Hogwarts, she had to meet with the governors once every three months to give a report on the running of the school and discuss financial matters. The meetings were an utter waste of time, she felt; they were just so the governors could feel as though they were exercising control and doing their job. Governors were appointed by the Minister of Magic and served until the age of eighty. The job required no more than twenty hours of attention per year, if that much, but to McGonagall's consternation, they took it rather seriously.

Things were running smoothly, however, and it seemed as though they were trying very hard to find things to criticize, or at least bring up. She recalled that Dumbledore had always been unperturbed by the meetings, but then, he had been unperturbed by nearly everything. If he were a king, we could have called him 'Albus the Unperturbable,' she thought, in a rare moment of mental whimsy.

"Headmistress?"

"Yes, line two hundred twenty-five, go ahead..."

She continued to suffer through the painfully boring ordeal. Poor Harry, she thought, he'll hate this when he gets this job. He may be the most powerful wizard in history, but he's not patient. Well, he already knows that magic doesn't solve every problem in life, and he still has yet to encounter many. At least it's only once every three months. She recalled Dumbledore telling her that when he took over the job, it had been once a month; he had managed to slowly decrease the frequency of the meetings over his long tenure. A wonderful legacy to future headmasters, she thought dryly. Harry might have this job for as long as a half-century; if he could get it down to once a year, it would be a more impressive achievement than any magic he can do.

The meeting finally ended; the governors thanked McGonagall for her time. She put her papers and scrolls in her bag, and left the meeting area. She walked through the Ministry halls, heading for the nearest fireplace out. She supposed it was a reasonable precaution that many areas of the Ministry didn't allow for Apparation, but it could be annoying at times.

Such as when one wanted to return home, but was intercepted before one could get away. "Headmistress!" shouted Governor Wyatt, walking briskly to catch up to her.

She did allow herself to roll her eyes before she turned around. "What can I do for you, Governor Wyatt?"

"May I talk to you for a moment, privately? I would like your advice about..." He lowered his voice. "A problem within the group, I would appreciate your guidance..."

"I do not intend to be drawn into any internal political battles--"

"It's nothing like that, I assure you. Please."

She reluctantly agreed, and allowed herself to be led into the small meeting room nearby. "Now, what can I do for you, Governor?"

In shock, she watched as ropes began to whirl around her. She was too slow going for her wand, and was quickly immobilized. "What are you doing?" she demanded, outraged.

He smiled, an evil smile of which she wouldn't have thought Wyatt, a quiet, unassuming man, capable. "What I would have liked to do for a long time, ever since you brought that essay I wrote for your class to the attention of Professor Dumbledore. The one about werewolves."

Her eyes went wide. "Lucius Malfoy," she breathed.

"At your service," he again smiled. "I only regret that our time is limited, so I cannot spend the time with you that I would strongly prefer to. You would not be so arrogant and condescending under the Cruciatus Curse, I am sure."

Summoning her most arrogant and condescending expression, she countered, "And why, pray tell, do we not have enough time?" She knew she was as good as dead, but she decided to try to keep him talking for as long as possible, since he had referred to time being limited.

"If you are noticed missing for any length of time, it is possible that Granger's phoenix, or Potter as a phoenix, could find you. My master has decided that cannot be risked."

"Your master?" she repeated, stunned. "Your master is dead!"

"Obviously not, since he has given me instructions," responded an amused Malfoy.

"You are no doubt delusional, but it doesn't matter," she said scornfully. "You may kill me, but you will no longer be safe. The whole wizarding world will be looking for you once they know you are active again. Polyjuice Potion will not be effective against those who are on guard."

"You will be dead in minutes. No one will know it was me."

She laughed. "You are truly stupid. Dumbledore is still in the place between worlds, and can still talk to Harry if he chooses. I will meet him, and through him relay the information. You appear not to have thought of that."

He laughed dismissively. "There is no such thing as life after death."

"Really," she said calmly, as if what he said had been most interesting. "Perhaps you will indulge a dying woman's curiosity. Why bother killing me? Harry will take my place, and you cannot kill him."

"He will be... neutralized, let us say. Killing you, besides being enjoyable for me, will ensure that Hogwarts will fall into less capable hands. My master's objective is chaos, which your death will serve to further."

"How can you possibly neutralize someone who can do any magic he wants, without a wand?"

Malfoy smiled again. "You are trying to buy time, hoping for rescue. I must finish my business and go." He approached her.

She raised her eyebrows. "No Killing Curse?"

"Your death will appear to be a heart attack. My master does not wish to draw Potter's attention to him."

McGonagall chuckled. "Too late."

"You are quite smug, for someone who is about to die."

"I've had a good life, I am content. I will soon be meeting Albus, and relaying this fascinating information--"

She gasped for breath as Malfoy magically pinched the arteries leading to her heart; it was a common method of stealthy assassination throughout wizarding history.

"I will--be seeing you soon," she gasped, then passed out.

"I don't think so," muttered Malfoy. He made sure she was dead, then Summoned the Invisibility Cloak off the unconscious and bound man in the corner of the room, the real Governor Wyatt. Malfoy unbound the man and performed a Memory Charm, causing him to think that he had been about to talk to McGonagall when she clutched at her chest and collapsed. He then drank more Polyjuice Potion to assume the identity of another nondescript wizard, revived Wyatt, and quickly left the room.

McGonagall was disoriented. She could see nothing; she felt free, and good. She was safe. I like it here, wherever it is, she thought. Is this what I think it is? There's only one way to find out.

Albus?

Yes, Minerva. I am here.

Oh, Albus, it's so good to... not see you, I can't really see, but I can feel you. It's good to be near you. I missed you.

I have not missed you, as I have been able to keep an eye on you.

Did you see how I died?

Yes, I did. You will be greatly missed by those you leave behind.

We must talk to Harry the next time he sleeps. We must let him know that Malfoy is active again, that 'his master' threatens chaos.

I'm sorry, Minerva, but I will not.

Then I will. Just help me talk to him.

I will not; it would be the same thing. I must not interfere in physical events beyond what I intended when I came here. That is accomplished; Voldemort is defeated. I am here only to chat with Harry now and then, as I promised him I would.

You would not help him, when those he cares about may be threatened?

I am sure that Harry explained to you why I do not involve myself in physical events. It would inappropriately interfere with the spiritual journeys of others.

We have plenty of time. Perhaps you would explain it to me in exhaustive detail.

I would be very happy to.

You are every bit as exasperating as you were at times when we were alive.

I know.

And I love you every bit as much as I did when we were alive.

I know. And I love you as well.

I wish, Albus, that if this had to happen, that it had happened before, rather than after, that meeting with the governors.

Dumbledore laughed.

* * * * *

It was a few minutes after ten later that night when Harry teleported the last of the teachers to the Hogwarts staff room. He had found the teachers who didn't live at Hogwarts and placed a message, spelled out in magically hovering letters, in front of them. Emergency meeting at Hogwarts, may I teleport you?

Trying very hard to keep his emotions in check, Harry addressed the group. "I just found out that Professor McGonagall is dead." There were gasps of shock; Harry blinked repeatedly and choked back sobs. "She was at the Ministry, they say it was a heart attack. By the time they got to her, it was too late." Hermione burst out in sobs; she had found out as soon as Harry, through the link, and had been crying most of the time since then.

Most of the teachers looked stunned; tears were starting to come to Sprout's eyes, and her phoenix appeared on her shoulder. Snape was clearly surprised, but keeping any sadness hidden. "It did not happen during the governors meeting?"

"Just afterwards, apparently. She was in a meeting room having a conversation with Governor Wyatt when she collapsed. He ran to get help, but it was too late."

"I suspect foul play," said Snape.

Despite his sadness, Harry smiled a little. "You would."

"I am perfectly serious," responded Snape. "The headmistress was in robust health for a person of her age; she should have lived another fifteen years easily. She had a physical examination every year; a heart defect should have been found."

"That's what I thought, too," agreed a sniffling Hermione. "But Pansy says that these things can happen suddenly. Exams catch a lot of heart problems, but not all."

Snape said nothing further, but looked unconvinced.

John spoke quietly. "I assume you're going to be the new headmaster."

"Most of the governors were still there when I got there. They were shocked, but they said they were sure there would be no problems confirming my appointment. But I'm not sure that's what I want to do. I thought I would have ten more years; I'm not sure I'm ready for it. I mean, I'm still only twenty-two."

"As she and I both told you four years ago, it is about leadership," said Snape. "Not age. The kinds of things you may have problems with will be minor, and the others and myself can help you with them. You will be fine." Sprout and Flitwick nodded.

"Thanks," said Harry to Snape. "I guess I just needed someone to tell me that. It seems a bit much. I'll tell the students tomorrow during breakfast, and we'll have the memorial service after dinner. Should we cancel classes?"

There was a short silence. "She would not have wanted us to," said Snape.

Harry nodded, imagining what she would say if she could. "You're right about that. She'd want there to be a minimum of 'fuss,' as she would put it."

"That doesn't mean that we shouldn't do it, though," suggested Sprout. "It's as much for us as for the students. I think I'd rather have the day to grieve, to remember her. It's also a sign of respect. I think she deserved it, even if she wouldn't want it." Hermione sent her agreement through their link.

He found her argument compelling. "Okay, I'll announce that classes are canceled. Hermione, I assume you're okay to be the deputy headmistress?"

"I suppose so. I know she wanted me to, and she'd be annoyed if I argued. I just feel like I wouldn't be ready if anything happened to you."

"Nothing's going to happen to him, Hermione," said Sprout. "You'll have the safest job in the world. You'll be the deputy headmistress for the next sixty years."

She met Harry's eyes. "That'd be fine with me."

"McGonagall should be dead by now, and Lucius, on his way back," said Drake. "Once Potter is moved out of the picture, will Granger be the headmistress? Or will it go to someone else, like Snape?"

Hugo thought. "It's very difficult to say; either is a real possibility. Harry being gone will be a shock to Hermione, she won't have her usual confidence. My best guess is that she'll ask Sprout to do it, but if the security situation is unsettled, she'll ask Snape."

"The governors won't involve themselves in the decision-making?"

"They've always allowed the headmasters to choose their successors. Harry won't be dead, so they'll be hesitant to override his wishes. They don't want to be on his bad side; he still is Harry Potter."

As Hugo was finishing his sentence, Lucius Malfoy Apparated in. Drake cast Legilimency to get his report. As Drake viewed Malfoy's memories, Hugo saw very rapid changes in Drake's mood; his face was still fairly calm, but he was clearly disbelieving and very angry. He put down his wand and turned to Hugo. "Brantell, I want your thoughts about the consequences of Malfoy's actions. He killed McGonagall, but not before letting her know it was him, and making oblique references to me."

Hugo couldn't help it; he broke into a chuckle. Suddenly furious, Malfoy raised his wand, but Drake pressed Malfoy's arm down. "It is funny, from where he stands. I will not punish him for recognizing a truth. Consider yourself lucky that I do not punish you for your astounding stupidity. McGonagall was right about that. They will now know you are back, and will be on high alert. You have complicated my plans greatly, and my plans for Potter will be extraordinarily difficult to execute. I must now review the situation from top to bottom."

Hugo didn't want to say what he was going to say, but he knew Drake would find it in his mind at some point, and punish him for not saying it when he thought of it. "It may not happen that way. Dumbledore may refuse to interfere; Harry said that he was very specific about what he would do from there."

Drake looked thoughtful. "McGonagall intended to interfere, but she needs Dumbledore to do it. I suppose we will know tomorrow, by whether or not there is a full alert for all wizards to be on the lookout for Malfoy, or unusual measures intended to detect users of Polyjuice Potion."

He turned to Malfoy. "Your old master would have given you a long spell of torture for that, though he would not have recognized the danger. You are fortunate that I only punish disobedience, not idiocy. I know you do not believe in life after death, but that is irrelevant. From this point forward, you will operate on the assumption that anyone you kill who is close to Potter, or very close to someone close to him, could inform Potter of what happened in their last moments. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," responded Malfoy evenly.

"You will no longer toy with those you are about to kill, you will simply kill them, unless I have authorized exceptions."

"Yes, Master."

"You will not speak to them unless so instructed."

"Yes, Master."

Drake dismissed Malfoy with a gesture; Malfoy left the room. Drake sighed. "This is why I hesitate to make you a slave, in addition to the time investment required. The required conditioning makes the person shy away from creative, independent thought, which is part of your purpose."

Thank goodness for small favors, thought Hugo. "From how angry you were, I thought you were going to torture him, on general principle."

Drake chuckled mirthlessly. "There would be no point; it would be like punishing a dog for doing something he did not know was wrong. Random torture undermines the conditioning he has undergone; if a person may be tortured at any time for no reason, there is a greater tendency to think as one wishes, since one may be tortured anyway. Torture must be applied only for knowing disobedience, or for conditioning purposes. I could specifically condition him not to do as he has done, but it's unnecessary. He'll do as I tell him; in some cases he simply needs very specific direction."

Despite himself, Hugo was curious. "Why doesn't he get angry when you insult him?"

"Part of the conditioning is to accept everything I say as the truth, whether it contradicts what he believes or not. I must only take care not to assert what his senses tell him is false, such as that there's no table in front of him when there is. He would be forced to conclude that either I, or his senses, were incorrect, either of which would be counterproductive. In any case... for now, you will work on contingency plans in the event that Potter learns of Malfoy's identity." Drake dismissed Hugo.

As Hugo walked back to his quarters, he reflexively shoved back the idea that he hoped Dumbledore would tell Harry about Malfoy. Hope still existed, but only as a concept.

* * * * *

Harry called a halt to the energy-of-love portion of the seventh-year Gryffindor/Slytherin Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He still devoted fifteen or twenty minutes of each double class to it, even though there was one class wholly devoted to it. When he had been teaching as a seventh-year student, teaching each year double classes took twenty-eight hours of his week, which was difficult when added to his studies. When he had no studies, he'd thought about having one more hour with each class, for a total of forty-two teaching hours, but had decided to go a bit easier on himself by instituting a new, once-a-week energy of love class which included all four Houses of a particular year. That only had to be done once a week for each year's students, so he taught thirty-five hours a week. He found that to be more than enough.

"Okay, we're done for today, unless anyone has any questions."

Augustina raised her hand. "How are you feeling, about Professor McGonagall?"

It was the first day after classes had resumed; Harry had choked up more than once while speaking at her memorial service the day before. "Still pretty sad. She was a good friend, and like I said yesterday, a lot more funny and natural than the impression you might have had of her. I'll really miss her."

"Does being really sad interfere with your--well, not you, but anyone's ability to use the energy of love?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it doesn't. Only anger or hate. If someone you love was killed, then of course that would be an issue. It would be pretty hard not to be angry in that situation, as I know very well. You might be able to channel that anger into a different emotion, but that's hard to do. If you can't, you might be better off saying to yourself, okay, I'm not going to be able to use it until I get over this, and allow yourself to grieve and be angry until the worst of it passes. The point would be to not put extra pressure on yourself. But fortunately, that situation is pretty rare these days.

"Okay, we're out of time. See you next week. Hedrick and Helen, would you stay behind for a minute?"

They approached his desk. "Is this a Head Girl and Boy thing?" asked Helen.

"No," said Harry, deadpan. "I was just wondering when you two were going to schedule the wedding. Spring is pretty good."

Hedrick looked surprised; Helen, mildly annoyed. "Professor..."

Harry shrugged, keeping up the pretense. "Hey, I can't help it, that phoenix intuition can be pretty strong. It really tells me things."

They both smiled, pleased that Harry liked them enough to make jokes. "Did you have us stay back just so you could make fun of us, Professor?" asked Helen.

"No. Well, partly. The main thing was to thank you for all the work you did organizing the memorial service yesterday. You both did a good job."

"Thank you, Professor," said both.

"I should also say, though, on a kind of Head Boy/Girl topic, that you two might want to be careful about the necking in the halls."

Both immediately went pink, to Harry's amusement, but Helen remained defiant. "We check the map carefully," she protested. "You'd never even know if it wasn't for your remote eye."

"Well, yes, but that's not exactly what the patrolling is for, though it is what the couples' places are for. And you can rest assured that the remote eye never looks at the couples' places. There are many things I don't need to know."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Hedrick, still slightly embarrassed.

"However... does one of you have the map, by the way?" Helen reached into her robe and handed Harry the cosmetics catalog, which Pansy had given them when she graduated from Hogwarts. He opened the map and activated it, and cast a spell on it silently as he spoke. "Since I'm concerned about you getting caught by someone like Filch... or Professor Snape, who would then give me a hard time for encouraging you..." He handed them back the map. "It has a new feature. When you activate the feature, it'll beep if anyone gets to within ten feet of being on a line of sight, wherever you are."

They smiled. "Cool feature," chuckled Hedrick.

"How do we activate it?" asked Helen. "What's the keyword?"

"Spring," he said. All three laughed. "You're bad," Helen admonished him.

"I'm sure Hermione would agree with you," he joked. He paused, getting an impression. "Speaking of Hermione, she says there's someone here to see me. I guess that's going to be happening a lot more now."

"Professor," said Hedrick quickly, before Harry could teleport away. "We're sad about what happened to Professor McGonagall... but we're happy that you're the headmaster."

Harry nodded, a little sadly. "I just wish it could have been because she retired. But thanks, I appreciate it." He teleported away.

Hedrick and Helen exchanged a glance. "I feel like we should be sadder about Professor McGonagall's death, like he and the other teachers are," said Hedrick guiltily.

Helen nodded. "I know what you mean, but she hadn't taught for four years, and we couldn't really get to know her, like we know Professor Potter. She kept this distance. It's hard to be that sad when you really didn't know the person."

"I suppose," he agreed as they walked toward the classroom door. "By the way, are we going to tell the others about the map?"

She chuckled. "That was nice of him. No, I don't see the point. We're the only ones who really can use it, they wouldn't need it, and they'd just make fun of us anyway. They can just use the couples' places. Not that we can't, but this is more convenient." As they walked out of the classroom, they didn't notice Matthew near the door on the outside, having been about to enter the room.

* * * * *

Harry appeared next to Hermione, in the staff room. He gestured silently, asking who wanted to see him.

"It's for both of us, apparently," she said. "A goblin, from Gringotts."

"Isn't that kind of redundant?" he joked.

She didn't suppress her annoyance. "That's such a stereotype--"

"I know, I'm kidding. I'm sure there are plenty of other goblins who don't work for Gringotts and have nothing to do with banking."

"And they're not all nasty and unpleasant," she added.

"I never knew any who weren't," remarked Snape casually.

"I doubt you spent much time around goblins," countered Hermione.

"In fact, I did," said Snape, an eyebrow raised at Hermione, silently needling her for assuming things she shouldn't.

She sighed and tried to keep her disapproval off her face. "I have a feeling I don't want to hear the story."

"I didn't offer to tell it. But yes, you are probably correct. Just something for you to think about. Some stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason."

She turned to Harry. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Where is he?"

"The front gate, but don't teleport us there, okay? I'd like to walk. I think it's good to walk sometimes." They left the staff room.

"I walk sometimes. I walk to the Burrow every Sunday night. I just didn't want to keep the goblin waiting."

"So thoughtful of you," she retorted, not buying it.

"And I also exercise sometimes. I have my exercise room at home, and the pool."

"Both of which you don't use much. Especially recently, I'd bet."

"Well, I have been flying. That counts as exercise."

"I somehow doubt that the exercise you get as a phoenix does your human body any good."

He shrugged. "It just seems like there's always so much to do. I feel like I'm taking time away from Ginny and James if I exercise, or do things like that." Hermione sent a feeling unintentionally, that it was hard to think about James without thinking of Draco Malfoy. "He's not Malfoy," snapped Harry.

"All right, all right, don't bite my head off," protested Hermione.

"Sorry, it's just that it still bothers Ginny, and I wish it didn't. I know she can't help it. I'm just worried, because she tries, but she's not the same with him as she used to be. I'm worried about the effect it might have on him." They exited the castle gate, being sure to keep their voices down when discussing the Malfoy topic.

"It really doesn't bother you," she said, impressed; she knew it was true, getting his feelings through the link. "It would bother me. Maybe it wouldn't be rational, but it would bother me. I can really empathize with Ginny about that. Why aren't you bothered?"

"I just felt that what that Healer, Vasquez, said was right, it just sounded right. Magic, especially Dark magic, shouldn't--can't, I'm sure--affect the spiritual realm, and James is still as James as he's ever been. Also, you know about how phoenixes can see through people, that sense they have. I've been a phoenix around James, I can see what he's like. There's no Malfoy in there, I'd see it if there was. It's just James, just an ordinary, happy two-year-old boy. I've told Ginny, and she kind of believes me, but I can tell it doesn't really help. It's like she's in this frame of mind she can't get past. It's all I can do not to say, it's really him, will you please get over this?"

Hermione's eyebrows went up. "If you want to make the situation ten times worse, that's the thing to say."

"I know that much. I try to be patient, I'm doing my best."

But you still go out as a phoenix most nights, she sent, half-intentionally.

He shot her a glare. "Are you really going to hassle me about that?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sent that." Harry could sense that she regretted having sent it, but still felt she was right. "It just seems like it's not the best thing to do in your situation. I'm not trying to poke my nose in."

"I know," he admitted. Their link had caused each to send feelings on many occasions that they'd rather not have sent, so both knew how easy it was to do. "I just think she needs some time alone right now, try to sort things out. She doesn't need me to keep telling her it's going to be all right."

Hermione forced her mind away from the topic, as she still didn't agree with him but didn't want to send more unsolicited advice. "Look, there he is." She pointed to the gate.

"I wonder why he didn't come through the gate. Maybe it's some goblin rule."

"You should read up on goblins, learn about their culture," she suggested.

"Yes, because I have all this free time."

"You know what I mean. It's a good idea. You're the headmaster now, you may have dealings with them."

He would have responded, but they were close to the gate. He nodded politely at the goblin. "Can I help you?"

"Harry Potter? Hermione Granger?"

Harry hadn't had to identify himself for a very long time; he answered by moving his hair to reveal his scar. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Yes, that's us," she said.

The goblin reached into a brown bag and pulled out a package, and a piece of parchment that Harry could tell was a proof-of-delivery form. He held out the parchment. "Tap with your wands here."

Hermione did so. "You may have heard, I don't use a wand anymore," Harry pointed out. "How about a finger?"

"No wand, no delivery. That's the rule." The goblin had the expression of a bored bureaucrat doing a tedious job.

"Well, heaven knows I wouldn't want any special treatment," said Harry sarcastically. Remembering that he kept his old wand in a bedroom drawer, he caused it to appear in his hand, and used it to tap the parchment.

"That'll be five Galleons."

"Five Galleons?!" exclaimed Harry. "For what?"

"Personal delivery."

This goblin was clearly not given to long sentences. Harry was starting to wonder if they really wanted the package. Not that he didn't have enough money, but five Galleons was a lot, and shouldn't the sender have paid? "Who sent this?"

The goblin looked at the paper. "Minerva McGonagall."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a startled look; Harry summoned five Galleons from his money chest at home. "I'm sure Hogwarts will reimburse you," she said.

"I'd imagine so, since the deputy headmistress is in charge of Hogwarts' petty cash." Harry accepted the package; the goblin turned, took a few steps, and Disapparated.

Harry and Hermione started back to the castle. "You know, Snape was really wrong about goblins," Harry couldn't resist saying.

She ignored his jibe, and reached for an envelope attached to the package. Opening it, she read, "Open this in private, near your Pensieve. If anyone other than Harry Potter tries to open this package, they will regret it."

"Wonder what would happen," he said.

"Well, now I'm really curious about what's inside it. Teleport us to your office."

Harry looked up, and around the grounds. "I don't know, it's such a nice day, the walking would do us good. Look, there's Hagrid's hut, we could stop for a cup of--"

She sent him the impression that she was mildly annoyed, but if he continued, she would become truly annoyed. "Oh, all right," he conceded, and they were suddenly in his office. "But will you admit that teleporting is just a convenience, and not for the purpose of avoiding exercise?"

"As long as it gets you to open that package, yes." He did so, and was soon holding a glass cylinder containing silvery material resembling what went into a Pensieve. Etched into the glass were the words, 'place in the Pensieve.' Harry did, then he used his unusual abilities to display the image in the air in front of them.

It was McGonagall. "Harry, Hermione. If you are viewing this, it means that I did not make it to my retirement. I had hoped to tell you this in person.

"The main reason for this message is to make sure you are informed of a secret which is known only to Hogwarts headmasters. There is a vault in the headmaster's office which contains a fortune in Galleons, jewels, and a few other valuable items. I do not know the exact value of it all, but Albus was told that there were at least five million Galleons. This has been here for hundreds of years; it is not known who placed it there originally. The coins would be even more valuable than their face value because of their great age.

"The purpose of this treasure is for whatever contingency may cause its use to become necessary. I cannot quite imagine what that would be, but one never knows what will happen. Albus was told that one purpose was to keep Hogwarts relatively independent and free from a possible Ministry takeover. The governors are no more than figureheads, to be humored for the sake of appearances; a relatively weak headmaster two hundred years ago allowed their creation, and the rest of us have suffered for it since then. When I say 'independent,' I mean not only in a leadership sense, but also free from dependence on Ministry funding. We do get a yearly stipend from the Ministry, of course, and it is mostly sufficient. The Ministry, however, in antagonistic hands, could use Hogwarts' funding as a lever to push their own agenda, take over in small ways. This fund allows a Hogwarts headmaster to resist such pressure. If the Ministry were to react by cutting Hogwarts' funding entirely, this treasure would allow Hogwarts to continue operating for at least one hundred years. Such an eventuality is, of course, not expected. This is, by the way, one reason that when Albus fled the school in your fifth year, he made sure that Umbridge could not enter the headmaster's office; he wanted to make absolutely sure that she had no opportunity to find out about, or access, this money. That year was the most recent time using the fund was seriously considered, to keep Umbridge out. Albus discussed it with the portraits, but he and they decided that the situation could be managed without such open warfare.

"You may be wondering how it is that an unscrupulous headmaster, or at least one susceptible to temptation, has not absconded with some or all of the treasure. We try to choose headmasters wisely, of course, but the depositor of the treasure took a stronger precaution. You may be aware that only the fifteen previous headmasters' portraits are on the wall of the headmaster's office; I imagine you will be seeing my portrait there soon. I am the sixty-third headmaster or headmistress, so the wall could become even more unruly than it is now if it were not limited to the most recent fifteen. If the current headmaster wants to access the funds, he must explain the reason to the past headmasters' portraits. Ten of the portraits must agree; if they do not, the fund cannot be accessed. I understand that the fund has only been accessed once in Hogwarts' history, but not much of it was used.

"Harry, I tell you this largely so that you can tell it to the next headmaster, in case Hermione decides to retire before you, or at the same time. This will not be relevant to you for more than one reason: with your status, the Ministry would not dare oppose you, and in an emergency you could always conjure money, though I know you'd prefer not to. It is a part of Hogwarts' legacy, however, and valuable for the security it brings.

"Needless to say, you are to tell no one of this, not even Ginny and Neville. Not a single person. If this became known, the Ministry might try to greatly decrease or entirely stop Hogwarts' funding. Normally I would not even be telling Hermione--this is supposed to be restricted to headmasters only--but as you'll be taking over at a very young age, you may want Hermione's advice on such matters.

"After you view this, break the container and allow the memory to dissipate. Good luck, Harry, though I'm sure you'll do fine. Many people care about you and will want to help you; just listen to them. Perhaps I will talk to you one more time, when you talk to Albus next." The image faded.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances as they sat, silently trading feelings about what they'd just seen. "Part of me wants to keep this," said Harry, taking the cylinder out of the Pensieve.

"I can understand that," she agreed. "But just remember what she'd say if you did."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't want to hear it." He held the container in both hands, and performed a Severing Charm; the cylinder split perfectly down the middle. The memory oozed out, and faded into nothingness.

* * * * *

Drake had thought long and hard about how to neutralize Potter, and come up empty. There was just nothing to be done against someone who could defend himself against literally anything, peer inside anyone's mind at will, and who could see through any disguise just by deciding to look. Knowing that Potter preferred not to use those powers was of little help; as soon as anyone he cared about was in danger, he would use them. He had saved a hundred people he hadn't even known at the World Trade Center, so Drake knew that as soon as he got too aggressive in his activities, Potter would become less reserved about using his unusual talents.

Potter's ability to become a phoenix Animagus, however, had opened up a possible new line of attack. He needed to get inside Potter's home to do what he wanted to do. If successful, it would take Potter out of the equation, but it was a huge risk. Potter could simply be anywhere, anytime. Drake decided to send Brenda to make the attempt; as a safety precaution, she had been provided with an explosive that she could activate with a wave of her wand. She had been told to activate it if seen by Potter in her human form. There was still the risk that he could cast the Imperius Charm on her if he took her by surprise, but it had to be chanced.

She had observed that every Sunday night between seven-thirty and nine o'clock four of them, sometimes all six, left the home and walked to the Burrow together. That was the time to act. Helping matters greatly was the fact that in placing magical protection on his home, Potter had apparently made a small but significant oversight. His version of the Fidelius Charm prevented anyone from seeing his home... except an Animagus in animal form. As a human, Brenda could not see his house. As a dog, she could. It's always the little things, thought Drake. Fortunately, no one in Potter's circle of friends was an Animagus, so he had not found out.

As a collie, Brenda waited patiently on Sunday night for Harry and the others to leave the house. Finally they did. When they were a little less than half the distance to the Burrow, Brenda darted out from behind a tree and raced for the front door; she had no way of knowing how much time she would have. Someone had left the front door slightly ajar, and she nosed her way in.

Keeping an eye out for the house-elf, whose movements couldn't be predicted, she made her way through the house, looking for his bedroom. She found it, making sure by looking around that it wasn't a guest bedroom. It was time for the riskiest part of the operation: becoming human. It wasn't known if Potter had set the home to recognize the presence of an intruder, or the entrance of one, or if he had just trusted his charms to keep out intruders altogether, making such alarms unnecessary.

She transformed into a human, and waited a few seconds; no reaction. Ready to set off the explosive on a second's notice, she threw the Invisibility Cloak over herself in case the house-elf came by. She then used the glasses he'd given her, the ones that allowed her to see through anything. She quickly found the chest where his clean clothes were kept, and took out the vial of liquid. She quickly but methodically poured a small amount onto several pairs, the ones nearest the top, of socks, underwear, and undershirts.

Her mission accomplished, she now needed to get out as soon as possible. She became a dog again, this time using the Invisibility Cloak as a dog, again clutching it with her mouth so that it covered her. She left the bedroom, went down the hall, moving very slowly as she passed the kitchen, which the house-elf was now busily cleaning. He noticed nothing, however, and she continued on her way, finally reaching the front door, which was still ajar. She nosed her way out, and took off for the trees.

Drake was not given to emotional reactions, but Hugo sensed a wave of triumph as he watched Drake use Legilimency on Brenda. "Well done, Brenda. Good job." He never says that kind of thing to Malfoy, mused Hugo. Maybe it has something to do with personality differences. Hugo was not happy, of course. Unless something unexpected happened, many people would soon be in a lot of danger.