Means to an End

Morgan had never heard so many curses against the Ministry uttered in his whole life as he had in that single afternoon--and he agreed with all of them.

The Department for Regulating Damage Done to Historical Sites had opened a mere ten years ago, while archaeology in the wizarding world had existed as long as it had in the Muggle world, but it had created more havoc than most of the Ministry departments combined. Well, to the archaeologist it had anyway...

Abandoned sites such as Hogsmeade were a rarity in wizarding England, so naturally everyone wanted to keep it as intact as possible. Spells any more complicated than Lumos were forbidden within ten meters of a site's outer rim for fear of disrupting whatever magical force field was holding the site either together or in one place. (Morgan and Joseph both believed the Ministry simply didn't want people relocating from their semi-Muggle communities to all-wizarding villages--it might cause too much suspicion.)

But the question remained: why was Hogsmeade abandoned in the first place?

Connor, being the lightest of the three men, had been volunteered by his superiors to explore the more decrepit parts of the Shrieking Shack. A grimace was etched into his aristocratic features as he walked across several bits of rotted flooring.

"What exactly are we looking for?" called the graduate student.

"An underground tunnel," came the muffled reply.

"So, if I fall through the floor and find it, do I get credit at Cambridge?" Connor muttered under his breath. A loud snap echoed from another part of the house, followed by words which don't bear repeating.

"Bloody fucking Ministry," fumed the voice of Morgan. "I suppose they're having a good laugh over this--they probably think it's good joke, blaming us for things ruined because we have to explore without structure-strengthening spells..."

Connor's chuckle was trapped in his throat, however, because the floor suddenly went out from under him. He landed on his back in soft dirt and spent the next few seconds attempting to retrieve his breath.

"Uhh, sirs?" he yelled out again. "I think I found your tunnel."

I should be helping Morgan and the graduate students, not trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle!

But the discoveries she had made in the morning required her strict attention and focus.

The Ministry had always allowed her family a great deal of deference, preferring to leave the Weasley clan to their own devices than to butt heads and lose as they had in the past. As such, Hermi had lived a life free of its influences--mainly the ones placed on genealogy. Her great aunts and uncles had sat on the sidelines of the Erasing done in 2432 with auras of smugness as old families like the Malfoys lost the last two hundred years of family records. Throughout the five centuries post-Upheaval, the Weasleys remained on top, enjoying the security of identity when the Ministry forced everyone else to start all over again.

Great Aunt Eva had impressed upon Hermi the importance of keeping tabs on the old families. It was she who had thwarted Uncle Lenny's attempts to purge the library of non-Weasley records.

"The old ones shall always be there," she had said firmly, referring to the old families. "They shall always be beside us in status. And though they forget, we are not allowed to. When the time comes, they shall come to us for their identity; we must be ready to return it to them."

Her Great Aunt Eva had been a formidable woman.

This was why Hermi was thrown into confusion. Suddenly, a long-supposed murdered side of the family reappeared. Of course, it was almost five centuries too late, but she had to know.

Molly Prewett Weasley was the mother of seven children, Hermi mentally recounted. Bill was the eldest and the one who continued our line. Charlie died to protect his mother. Percy disowned himself and was killed by the Dark Lord. Fred and George died--disappeared?--in 1997, right before Hogwarts vanished. Ronald and Ginevra were within the castle when it happened, seventh and sixth year students respectively...

Gred and Forge Prewett.

Fred and George Weasley.

It didn't make any sense, but it was all there. The Weasleys were quite possibly the only ones who recalled their Prewett mother, and it was never confirmed just how the twins were killed. But their older brother Bill had still been alive in 2030--why hadn't he acknowledged them?

Hermi was certain the authors of Pranks were her many-times great uncles now. Everything fit, at least in her mind. Finding out if they had ever married and had children wasn't her next priority, however.

Next on the list:

Who were the Marauders and why were they important enough to Fred and George for them to have written books on them?

Hermi sighed and flopped down into the nearest chair. A warm breeze entered the tent and distracted her for a moment. Morgan, Joseph, and Connor were still in the Shrieking Shack. She snorted. Hope their having fun!

"Miss Weasley!"

Agnes and Dinah literally tripped over themselves trying to get into the older woman's tent. Hermi raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you two ladies?" she asked with a grin on her face. Dinah recovered from her fall first.

"Agnes found Honeydukes, ma'am!" she said hurriedly. "We need to ask you or Dr. Finnegan if we can take the Map and get permission to explore the tunnel further--you were the closest one to us."

"The Map? I think Morgan has it with him; they're in the Shack still, though..."

A thought hit her with the force of a Cruciatus curse.

"The Shack and the Map and Honeydukes!" she cried. Agnes and Dinah stared at her incredulously. "Oh, it's been there since 2030 and no one thought to look for it! Gah, we've been wasting so much time!"

And with that, Hermi ran off towards the Shrieking Shack, leaving behind two very bewildered young graduate students.

Morgan peered over the edge. "Are you alright, Connor?"

"Oh, I'm fine," came the sarcastic reply. "Really, I'm sure St. Mungo's will be able to remove the log I have stuck in my back..."

Joseph and the other man exchanged significant glances. "We might as well join him," said the younger doctor. "You have the Map, right?"

"I think we should let the others know what's up first," Morgan replied. "If we've found the way into Hogwarts, everyone should be here."

"MORGAN!"

He winced. "Damn, I thought she'd go home...Hermi, be careful of the rotted wood! It's unsafe in here."

The woman rushed into the room, completely disregarding his warnings. "There's something we need to talk about, NOW, and...good Lord, Connor, are you alright?"

The young Malfoy could be heard sighing. "Yes, yes, I'll be fine once I get out of here."

"Oh, splendid. As I was saying, I've made a discovery."

Morgan scowled. "If it's anything remotely having to do with this morning's discovery, I don't want to hear it."

"You idiot, the whole thing interlocks! Agnes and the others found the Honeydukes passage and came back asking for the Map and suddenly it all dawned on me how stupid we'd been and..."

"Breathe, Hermi!" laughed Joseph. "And get to the point." She glared at him but slowed down considerably.

"Like I was trying to tell you this morning, Gred and Forge Prewett don't really exist. In reality, they were Fred and George Weasley--my ancestor Bill's younger twin brothers."

Morgan shook his head. "The ones you say died in 1997?"

"But that was all that was said. What if they simply disappeared? Or maybe they were disgraced, or something, but I'm sure of this: they wrote the seven Pranks books and left clues on how to find Hogwarts!"

Even Connor was tipping his head back to stare in disbelief at her. Joseph's jaw seemed to be unhinged. Morgan, on the other hand, began to laugh.

"You can't be serious!" he cried. "If they really left clues in the books, wouldn't someone, in five centuries, have picked up on them?"

"You don't understand," snapped Hermi back at him. "They wrote in a time when Hogsmeade was still thriving, or at least still fresh in people's memories. They assumed that anyone who read them would know that the village of Pigsbrew was based on their childhood haunts. Why do you think the books weren't in print from 2049, the year the last search took place in, until almost 2200?"

"Hermi," Joseph interrupted. "The only people who have the ability to stop printing such a popular series would have been..."

"The Ministry," Morgan breathed. He was certainly not laughing now.

"They liked the books," hypothesized Hermi wildly. She was pacing back and forth now. "But so did everyone else. They stopped reprinting the books until anyone who would've had memories of pre-Upheaval events was dead; that way, no one could recall possible parallel memories--because by 2200, Hogsmeade must have been completely deserted. It was gone by...well, no one knows the exact year."

"2000."

"Excuse me?"

Morgan's face was set, features hardened by the shadows playing across it. The other three were astonished.

"It was the year 2000. Wouldn't you think it'd take a period of two years to educate pure-blooded wizards and witches in Muggle customs and then relocate them all?"