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  This chapter was edited by Gdiusx.

  "Oh, there you are, Harry. I've been waiting for–Are you alright?"

  Harry jerked awake from his stupor at Hermione's worried voice. He had been lost in thought since he left the Headmaster's Office following the memory he showed him. Sybil Trewney, the elusive Divination teacher Hermione disdained and whom he had yet to meet, was a true seer after all. To think she would be the one to give the prophecy that started it all — that drove Voldemort to attack his family, murder his parents, and then…attempt to murder a swaddling babe.

  He knew that Dumbledore did not tell him everything, such as why there was a disturbance outside the room. Harry had no clue, for the Pensieve did not show memories as clearly as the pool in his godswood did, and the headmaster ended the memory before he could glean more. It might have been innocuous enough, but the fact that Dumbledore admitted that a spy reported to Voldemort about the prophecy, or half of it, meant that the spy was just outside the room.

  Harry was not sure what he was more pissed off about, that Dumbledore refused to tell him the identity of the spy or that he had not killed him once he was caught. Spies and catspaws could never be trusted, as his parents discovered when Dumbledore's mercy allowed the spy to report to his master. He shook his head inwardly and recollected himself; the following talk with Dumbledore about his destiny or fate did not matter to him in the slightest, and he told the headmaster as such.

  "Voldemort murdered my parents and tried to kill me no less than three times. Wars have been started for less, and I assure you that if I ever find him, I will do all in my power to dice him into pieces before feeding his corpse to the dogs."

  At which Dumbledore sadly informed him that doing so would simply make it even more difficult to catch the monster, for that was what Tom Riddle had become in his pursuit of immortality: a bodiless spectre.

  "I'm still trying to learn how he managed to do it. Your wonderful fey friend had given me plenty of advice and introspection. I believe I am very close to learning the truth, but I do not wish to burden you–"

  "Too te, Professor. Better tell me what you found out now than risk me learning my own way."

  Albus Dumbledore sighed tiredly, "Why do I feel like you would somehow manage to discover it, but not without causing untold mayhem?"

  "Me? Mayhem? Never!"

  Then, Dumbledore took the plunge and informed him about what he suspected, yet he still emphasised that he was not entirely certain. Despite the vagueness and uncertainty, it sounded exactly like what the Ascended One had warned him. There were many ways to twist and tear the soul, but creating phycteries to preserve the torn piece without letting it dissipate was not a unique method. It wasn't a phenomenon unique to one pce, for many dark magic practitioners around the world created simir items, and according to Dumbledore, some of the earliest forms of cursed artefacts were created that way.

  "After all, to pce a curse on an item is to pce your will, intent, and malice into it. All of these are aspects of the soul, and while one's magic might dwell in the body and be nourished by the mind, it is the soul that harbours our intent and will."

  It sounded simir to what Healer Tonks once told him, but it was still a far too complicated topic for someone who barely had two years of magical education. Dumbledore must have realised that and smiled apologetically before sending him on his way with the omniocurs, a letter of introduction to Elphias Doge, a badge that gave him Honoured Guest status, which allowed him to leave the school premises without issues, and a lot of baggage that he needed to unpack.

  But not before telling him one st thing.

  "I may require your help learning how many of those soul anchors Tom had created."

  "Naturally, I will do what I can, but…you think he created more than one?" Harry asked aghast. "Just how is he still sane after so much torment and sheer evil?"

  "As, Tom was a cunning and talented wizard. Too talented, even if he poured all of his efforts into the wrong things…his sanity might not be what it was, but it hasn't diminished his capabilities or propensity for cruelty, only enhanced them." Dumbledore smiled wryly before his face grew solemn. "I must apologise for forcing you to bear such great burdens on your shoulders, Harry. I sometimes forget that you are merely thirteen and have just started your third year. For some reason, I get the impression that you are an old soul — someone who has seen and experienced far more of life than your age would suggest."

  Harry rubbed his brow abashedly, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Well, I did have more adventures than the average Hogwarts student."

  "It's not just that. I can sense it in your magic, even. Ever since the day you returned from the Chamber…" For a long moment, Dumbledore scrutinised him intently, his eyes twinkling madly behind his half-moon gsses. Harry wondered if the old warlock was trying to use Legilimency on him, but he sensed no intrusions and trusted that Ghost would notice anything. Eventually, the Headmaster sighed tiredly and returned to his seat. "Never mind, I suppose you simply grew well from your experiences. Perhaps it retes to that exquisite double ritual Henry Potter devised for you."

  "You knew my great-grandfather?"

  "Not personally, but I had a most enlightening chat with his portrait on matters of magical creatures and the benefits of their parts. He inspired me when I was in school to travel the world, discover how magical practitioners had developed their unique ways to use their powers in different corners of the world, and hunt dangerous beasts." Dumbledore smiled fondly as he gazed out of the window at the dark skies; he then suddenly waved his wand towards his quarters, where an old leather-bound tome floated towards him. "He was a member of the Hunter's Lodge, a guild catering towards those who hunt dangerous beasts. Consider this an early Christmas present; it was a book he wrote but never published that I managed to earn from the guild when I was young. Perhaps his portrait would find it amusing, or even embarrassing, to see his old scriptures."

  Harry accepted the book, though any sense of reverence or excitement was subdued by what he learned tonight. He pocketed it in his mokeskin pouch and nodded to the headmaster. "Thank you, professor. I will read it ter."

  Dumbledore smiled sadly as Harry excused himself and left the office. As he descended the spiral staircase, Harry realised the man regretted telling him about the prophecy — this was but an attempt to distract him from the gloominess. It would have been endearing if Harry still felt miffed that his entire life, his parents and any chance of him living a normal life and feeling a mother's love, were torn apart by an old man's mispced mercy.

  It was as he headed towards the entrance of the Room, brooding about what he discovered in a manner that felt both familiar and natural, that Hermione found him.

  "I'm fine. Just…got a lot of things on my pte." Harry took a deep breath and released it in a long sigh, expelling the glumness and worry he got from learning about the prophecy — he had far more important things to do, things that would need time that he did not have, but his best friend could provide him. "Let's go grab Tracey. There's something important I need to talk to you both about."

  Hermione looked like she wanted to ask several questions, but seeing his determined look, she nodded, and within a minute, they were descending the secret lift to the dungeons. Harry waved his wand as he cast a variant of the spell that Tracey taught him earlier.

  "Homenum Revelio." A silvery outline appeared on the opposite end of the wall, and while Tracey told him that experts in sensing magic could identify the outlines, Harry had no such talent and decided to trust that his friend was the one waiting on the other side.

  "Right on time." Tracey grinned as the door opened, though it quickly turned into a frown when she saw his face. "What's wrong, Harry?"

  "Later, let's get to the Room first."

  The blonde witch didn't hesitate as she joined them, and they waited in silence until the lift returned to the seventh floor. Within a few minutes, they were inside the Room of Requirements, seated on comfortable armchairs, and Harry had just told them about what exactly had happened st night at the Ministry and his intent to help Narcissa Bck.

  "But why would you help a woman like that, Harry?" Hermione looked disturbed as he finished expining. Naturally, he made no mention of the prophecy, despite how tempted he was to see Hermione's reaction regarding Trewney. "No matter what, she still murdered twelve people–thirteen if you want to include Umbridge."

  Tracey was looking over the scenes saved in the omniocurs, her face growing paler by the minute — Harry had warned her, but the girl was too curious for her own good.

  "Gd you had to think whether Umbridge counted as human." Harry snickered, and Hermione's lips twitched before she schooled her expression. "But to answer your question, because I owe her. Perhaps the aid she gave me is minor compared to what I pn to offer her, but that's how favours work. I also empathise with her; if someone dear to me was murdered and there was a chance the culprit could get away with it, you bet I will do my damnedest to sy them no matter what."

  His voice was full of resolve and determination, even as his mind wandered to the very real possibility of that happening. He could picture it: Chiara visiting Diagon Alley to purchase supplies, and some fool deciding she was a beast to be put down. Knowing how the people in the Ministry thought and operated, her murder would be brushed off as a mugging gone wrong or a minor accident, and the culprit would get away, most likely with certain department heads' blessings, if not Umbridge herself if she were alive.

  Had his father in another world risen in Rebellion that had resulted in hundreds of thousands of deaths for such a simir slight?!

  If Eddard Stark had dared to resist the authority of the Throne, would he be any lesser?

  "Still…taking justice into your own hands is…" Hermione looked torn. "If everyone did as Ms Bck did, the DMLE would lose credibility."

  "Their ck of credibility is not our problem." Harry shrugged. "There are hardly a score of Aurors employed in the Ministry and perhaps five times their number in other forms of w enforcement. While Amelia Bones is an energetic and competent witch, she cannot be in several pces at once. Not to mention, the DMLE's job is not to deliver justice but to apprehend criminals. Do you think for one moment that they would have arrested Umbridge for the fiasco on the train? Despite it being public knowledge she was responsible for the dementors and even admitted her malice in the omniocurs?"

  Hermione remained silent as she gnced at Tracey, who held onto the device with a tight grip. His bushy-haired friend had already watched it, and while shaken, she had recovered well enough. Hermione certainly had a spine, though perhaps it had more to do with their many adventures, though he did not recall her in any of the grislier parts. That was usually reserved for either him or Ron.

  "Alright, let's say what she did was justified, which I'm not saying it is, but why dig in and insist on helping her? From what you said, the Minister is powerful and wants to toss her into Azkaban without a trial. He must have allies as well, not to mention that he is fuelled by both anger and desperation. Do you really want to stick your neck out for…I'm sorry to say it that way, but a woman who has lost everything and has nothing to offer you?"

  "Absolutely!" Harry's instant reply caused Hermione to flinch — he might have unconsciously growled a bit at his friend's words, but he was secretly gd she was looking at the big picture. He did not imagine Hermione would understand the nuances of politics, but perhaps she was simply wary for his sake.

  Nevertheless, he had already decided to help Narcissa Bck, and nothing anyone said would stop him. "I'm not an ungrateful coward. I owe the woman, and she has been both kind and helpful to me. So what if she has nothing to offer in return? Should I discard her goodwill and aid when it's expedient?"

  "You always had this saving people thing, Harry." Hermione smiled sadly. "You can't bme yourself for Draco's death, either. There's nothing you could have done for him."

  "There was definitely something I could have done. If I had sin the dementors faster, if I had sent the Patronus down the train to seek further enemies…I was barely a minute te when Draco flung himself from the train. Bloody hell, if the dementors had sucked his soul and I still killed them, there's a chance he would have recovered. I saw Snape's soul returning to his body."

  "You don't know if that would have saved him, Harry," Tracey muttered as she pced the omniocurs on the table between them. "For all we know, Snape might forever be a vegetable; having your soul sucked out is not the only way for the mind to shut down. But Hermione is right. If you help Narcissa Bck, it will become public, and while some people would sympathise with a grieving mother seeking justice, it will hinge on the public perception."

  "You are right, of course, and I assure you I have a pn." Hermione and Tracey looked at him strangely, causing him to rub his brow awkwardly and stifle the urge to flex his fist — such an act could be considered rude, he had learned. "Or, well, half of a pn. I'm still working out the kinks, but first, I need to be sure that you are willing to help, especially you, Tracey. Your role in my pn is vital for its success."

  "Me?" The blonde witch gawked. "What could I possibly do to help you fight against the Ministry? I mean, I'm good with a wand, I suppose, but if you think I'm good enough to take on a fifth year, let alone a ministry worker–"

  "No, no, no, of course I won't dare put you in any danger!" It was Harry's turn to gawk before snorting in amusement; to think the girl actually expected him to lead her into battle, and she did not even hesitate! "I need you to secure me a meeting with your father."

  "...Oh. Yeah, that makes more sense." Tracey rexed slightly, even elbowing Hermione as the girl chuckled at her outburst. "But, it's nearly ten in the evening. Even if we somehow apparate to my home, he could be asleep and assuming he agrees to help, he would not have time to do anything."

  "Ah, but we have all the time we need." Harry smiled at Hermione, who groaned as she withdrew the Time Turner. "How far can you send us back?"

  "Five o'clock," she muttered as she squinted down at the grains inside the gss. "Any further, and it may conflict with our previous jump. As I expined, it's not advisable to use it several times in the same timeframe."

  "That's five hours ago, more than enough time to leave the school and visit your parents' house. I already got permission from Dumbledore, but…" Harry turned to Hermione apologetically, who merely huffed as she gnced at her book bag.

  "I suppose a few more hours in the Room would be nice. I can finish the st of my homework and do a bit of light reading." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tracey. "I won't be around to stop him from doing something reckless, so I will have to count on you to stop his worst tendencies."

  "Sure, though I don't know what reckless thing he can come up with when all we will be doing is sneaking out of the castle, travelling to Hogsmeade, sneaking somewhere we're not supposed to be in to use the floo." Tracey grinned. "After our adventure today, it's almost like an after-date where I bring my boyfriend home to meet the parents."

  "Har-har-har, the only thing is, I met your parents already," Harry grumbled, swallowing the rest of his retort about her parents trying to hook him up with her, before standing. "Now, where should we use the Time Turner? You should still be in the Room until six or so."

  "Ugh, that means I will have to hide for an hour or so." Hermione groaned. "And it's already curfew. We can't be seen in the corridors."

  "No worries. You still have the cloak, Tracey?"

  The blonde witch nodded, producing the invisibility cloak from her pocket. Harry did the same with his own and stared at it for a moment before sighing loudly.

  "I can't think of a single bloody pce to use the Time Turner except the Chamber!"

  "No way! I will not go anywhere near that pce."

  "But Hermione–"

  "Don't but me, Mister! I'm not budging on that."

  "Hah, this would be a lot more convenient if we had found a hidden passage to Hogsmeade." Tracey grimaced. "I know there are several. How else do the Weasley twins sneak in those fireworks they use?"

  "No use crying over it. It's not like one will pop up just as we need–" Harry did not even finish his sentence before movement at the edge of his vision had him turn and stare suspiciously. "That was not here a second ago."

  "No…it definitely was not."

  A mantelpiece had appeared on the wall underneath a portrait of a blonde girl their age with familiar piercing, brilliant blue eyes that seemed to be ughing at them. The girl smiled sweetly as she waved them over, and before he could stop himself, Harry and the two witches stood before the portrait.

  "Who are you?" The girl did not respond, only smiled at them. Harry inspected the portrait closely, finding it strange. There were no sounds at all coming from it. Typically, enchanted portraits would emit sound, even those that would be hard to hear, like breathing, clothes shuffling, or the wind blowing. The portrait included a garden, and Harry could see the leaves moving in the wind, yet there was not a single sound. "You are a portrait that was made post-mortem. No one prepared for your death."

  The girl's eyes widened slightly before nodding, her smile turning morose. Henry had told him about this, how sometimes, people die so suddenly, but their loved ones insist on having a portrait made for them using their lingering magic. Usually, an artefact of theirs, something as simple as a hairbrush or a comb that had remained with them for long enough time for their magic to leave an imprint, would be used to create the portrait, but they always came out wrong. However, in this case, the only thing wrong with the portrait was the ck of sound, which Harry thought was quite benign compared to the horrors Henry had told him about. She must be a really lucky girl, or whoever made the portrait cared so deeply about her that he did not spare any expense in making the portrait.

  "So, er, how can we help you?" Hermione coughed. "I mean, this is the Room of Requirement. I don't think any of us required company. Oh, don't get me wrong, I would love to keep you company. You look like a nice girl and all, but…"

  Hermione blushed as the girl's shoulders shook in ughter. Feeling pity for his friend, Harry tried to think of what they had said earlier that caused the room to create a mantelpiece…Firepce…floo network!

  "You are our ticket out of Hogwarts!" The girl beamed as she hopped in her portrait in excitement. Harry was about to ask her where the floo powder was, but then the girl turned and walked away, not out of the portrait but deeper into the garden she was in. Suddenly, the garden seemed to transform into a dark tunnel, and as they watched in shock, the girl was consumed by the darkness.

  "What the–"

  A tiny white dot reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel, and now the girl was walking back toward them, growing bigger and bigger as she came until she stood so close that only her face could be seen in the portrait. Then, the firepce simply opened like a door into a real tunnel, with the girl gesturing for them to enter as she returned to the tunnel, appearing on the walls, which morphed back into a serene garden. Only then did Harry realise that the entire tunnel was a portrait!

  "Well, I don't know about you two, but I smell adventure!" Tracey grinned as she rushed in a few steps, turned back to them and waved. "Come on, it's perfectly safe. Like a real tunnel."

  Hermione had a strange look on her face as she gnced at Harry. "We can't just let the Slytherin girl show us up in the bravery department!"

  The bushy-haired girl rushed after the blonde witch, leaving him amused as he trailed after them. The tunnel looked fresh, with light shining from the sunny garden of the girl's portrait. They seemed to be going downhill as they travelled to parts unknown, and Harry unconsciously had his wand out, even as Tracey tried to speak to the girl.

  "So, who are you? Oh, you can't answer. Do you happen to have a quill and parchment to write your answers?" The girl seemed lost in thought as she pced a finger on her chin and followed them along before smiling brightly, her eyes twinkling madly as she hurried behind a tree…and returned with a roll of parchment and an archaic-looking fountain pen she got from somewhere. "Brilliant, so what's your name?"

  The girl scribbled something and then showed them a barely legible name — the girl had terrible handwriting.

  "Ariadne?" Hermione asked, but the girl shook her head with a pout.

  "Amelia?" The girl stomped her foot as she shook her head, causing Tracey to snicker.

  Harry, however, seemed to finally have an idea who the girl was. Hermione nearly had it, but those twinkling blue eyes that he had only seen in one other person hinted at her identity.

  "Ariana Dumbledore?"

  The girl's eyes widened before skipping happily as she nodded vigorously, though she silently yelped when she dropped her pen, and they had to stop as she searched for it in the tall grass.

  "Dumbledore?" Hermione asked strangely. "Is she like a long-lost granddaughter of the headmaster?"

  "No, she's his sister." Tracey breathed sharply while Hermione gasped. Ariana recovered her writing utensils and then turned to them with an awkward smile. "It's not my story to tell. I don't know who made this portrait for you, Ariana, but he must have loved you greatly."

  The blonde girl smiled her sweetest smile yet as her eyes seemingly shone; the twinkles were almost like stars now, and Harry had a guess who had created such a wondrous dispy of magic. Ariana hurried them on, and they continued down the passage for a few more minutes until they reached a dead end. Their guide vanished for a moment, only for the wall to swing open, revealing a cosy sitting room with a threadbare carpet where an old grey cat was sleeping, a bare wall that suddenly turned into the familiar garden of Ariana and a cupboard holding decanters of wine.

  On one side of the room, however, was someone who grabbed his full attention. Harry's gaze was set on an old man dressed in grey robes, sitting at a desk and having dinner. He gred at them with yet another pair of familiar piercing, brilliant blue eyes. Those barely had a twinkle in them…until his gaze fell on Ariana, who had jumped into another portrait before marching out of it and appearing on the wall in a full-body form. She seemed to be shaking from excitement as her eyes flitted between them and the old wizard.

  The man sighed before angrily stabbing into a piece of roast chicken and continued eating as he scrutinised them for a long moment. Harry, Tracey, and Hermione had exited the tunnel, which turned into a mantelpiece, sealing them in the room with the strange, familiar old man with long, salt-and-pepper hair and beard. Strangely, he had two pairs of spectacles on the desk, one so dirty that he wondered how anyone could see through them and another, much cleaner pair.

  They kept staring at each other as the man continued eating his dinner, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits, along with a mug of ale set aside. Hermione shifted beside him, but Harry remained steady as he gazed at another pair of eyes he had vaguely recognised from his discussion with the headmaster earlier. What were the odds that he would meet two people he would never have known about right after learning about them?

  He was tempted to talk to the old man, but they were guests here. Even calling themselves 'guests' was overly generous — they were barely any better than intruders, and the old wizard would have every right to kick them out, yet he did not. Whether it was out of amusement or he really was so hungry that he would rather finish his meal first, Harry did not know. A gnce at Ariana showed the girl smiling apologetically, but her gaze at their host was full of warmth and love. Harry realised now who had created that portrait and the tunnel, but it appeared his first guess had turned out to be wrong.

  Finally, after five minutes since their arrival, the old wizard finished eating, produced a clean rag from his pocket, and wiped his hands and mouth before grabbing his wand from the table and waving it, vanishing the tray holding the empty ptes before gazing at them.

  "I did not know what to expect when my sister excused herself all of a sudden. I had completely forgotten about this passage I made when I was in school. I thought only I knew about the Room of Requirement, something not even my vaunted brother discovered in his many years running the school." The man's eyes, which so far had looked uninterested, twinkled in mischief. "Never could I have guessed that famous Harry Potter would sneak out of Hogwarts with two girls for a cndestine rendezvous."

  Hermione squeaked in embarrassment while Tracey blushed, yet Harry merely folded his arms. "I assure you, my cause is noble, Mr Dumbledore. I asked the Room for a way out of Hogwarts for a crucial matter, and Ariana appeared and helped bring us here."

  "...You know who I am. You know my sister as well." Aberfoth Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "Not many know my retion to Albus; even fewer are those who know of my sister's existence."

  "I'm resourceful like that." Harry shrugged, "Listen, I'm on a really tight schedule and running out of time. How much would it cost to keep your silence and allow us to use your floo?"

  "Oh? Up to no good, are we? I would never dare to endorse truancy, and on the first day of csses, no less!" Aberforth chuckled, but movement from the wall had him turn to Ariana, who had her arms folded with a pout before she brandished her parchment that clearly stated 'Friends!' on it. "You barely know them, Aria. How can they be friends?"

  The girl shook her head and stomped her foot before beaming at them. Harry could not help but feel endeared towards the girl, especially as it reminded him of another 'Arya' he knew. "It's okay, Ariana. I would not ask for your brother's help without recompense. How about ten galleons, and you pretend we did not just interrupt your dinner?"

  "Hmm, it is about to get busy downstairs, and ten galleons is certainly more than I earn on a busy night." Aberforth ran his hand through his beard, an action that was surprisingly simir to his brother's. "Oh, very well, but do satisfy my curiosity; what is it that is so important you needed to sneak out of the castle after curfew and floo away to wherever you are going?"

  Harry gnced at Hermione and Tracey; both of them looked uncertain and left the decision to him. It was his quest, and Harry decided to give the old warlock a bone.

  "You know about the attack on the Ministry st night?"

  "Who hasn't? I think I lost two or three of my patrons to that woman." Aberforth chuckled, though he did not at all look sad. "Ah, I run the Hogshead pub, by the way. Not something I would recommend youngsters visit. A lot of unscrupulous folks come here."

  "Noted. We are about to stir a hornet's nest that would see the Ministry shaking even more after what Narcissa Bck had done st night."

  "Oh? Do tell."

  "You will have to wait for the morning's Daily Prophet."

  "Don't take me for a fool, boy. Even if you meet with Cuffe now, the editions are already printed and ready for distribution. Even if you are the Boy Who Lived, Cornelius Fudge still has a lot of sway with that rag."

  "Let me worry about that, but I will give you my word that my pn will send ripples through Magical Britain. Convincing the Daily Prophet to write from a certain perspective instead of the narrative that no doubt the Ministry wants will not be a problem."

  "...Fine. I suppose I will find out in the morning. Off with you now." Aberforth waved his wand, and an urn of powder appeared on the mantle. "Floo powder is right there."

  Harry nodded gratefully, withdrew ten galleons from his pouch and pced them on the table. Hermione was saying goodbye to Ariana and promising her she was welcome to visit them anytime in the Room. Tracey grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the urn and threw it in the empty firepce, sending green fmes bursting out.

  "Wait, Tracey." Harry hurried to stand before the green fmes just as the girl was about to speak the address. "Potter Manor."

  The fmes shone for a moment, and Harry urged them to go in, promising to expin at the other end. Tracey went in first, followed by Hermione. Right before Harry followed them, Aberfoth called after him.

  "I don't know what pns you have, but if they are in any way connected to my brother, I warn you to be careful; Albus is far more cunning than he shows others."

  "Naturally, I've seen his cunning first hand, but what use is worrying over that when the man has enough power to get anything he wants regardless of any tricks?"

  "...Fair enough. Take care now."

  Harry nodded to the old wizard, waved to Ariana, then stepped into the fmes where, after a few seconds of swirling, he exited the firepce in the Potter Manor foyer to find an exhausted Chiara in her nurse robes with her wand drawn along with Dobby holding a rge frying pan.

  "Mr Potter! Hermione and Tracey as well. What are you–"

  "No time to expin, Chiara. Hermione, the Time Turner, please." Hermione nodded as she withdrew the device from around her neck and extended the chain around them. "When did you return, Chiara?"

  "I just stepped out of the floo less than a minute ago, but what is going–"

  "Dobby, do we have any guests?"

  The elf's wide green eyes looked at them strangely before nodding hesitantly. "Master came a few hours ago and–"

  "Brilliant. Thanks, Dobby. Chiara, if all goes well, everything will be expined in less than a minute. If I had to guess, we have a guest in the library who will expin everything. Let's go, Hermione. Six hours should do it."

  Hermione obliged as she turned the hourgss six times, and the world shook around them. A few heartbeats ter, they stopped. It was overcast in Wales, but the sun's rays still peeked through the clouds as they shone down on them from the windows. The clock on the wall showed it was fifteen minutes until five. Hermione had just withdrawn the chain when Dobby popped in.

  "Master Harry! Dobby did not expect to see you so soon!"

  "Me neither, Dobby. Tracey and I will need to leave in a moment, but Hermione will be staying here for the rest of the night."

  "I am?" Hermione looked at him strangely before her eyes widened. "Oh, the guest is–"

  "Yes, you. I'm sorry, Hermione, but I don't think it's a good idea to bring too many people to the Greengrass Manor. We will be intruding as it is, and I'm sure Tracey's Dad has a lot on his pte with the Ministry hounding after the Wizengamot members." Harry gnced at Henry's portrait, finding it empty. "Where's Henry?"

  "Abroad. He said he will return in two hours." Dobby answered instantly.

  "Alright. You can cook supper for Hermione. She has a lot of work to do. Treat her as an honoured guest."

  "Of course, Master Harry. Dobby will treat Miss Hermy to the best dinner! Only, it will take an hour or so, as Mistr–er, our other guest, had just finished eating and is gone now." The house elf hurried to correct himself as he gnced at the white tree, barely visible from the window.

  "Good. We will be back ter tonight, Hermione. Not sure when, but if we are not back when we first arrived, then we will probably be ter than midnight."

  "Alright. You can go now, you two. I will make myself comfortable in the library. You really went above and beyond in stocking it with all kinds of books." Hermione shouldered her bag as she left, her brown eyes gleaming with excitement. Only she could be so easily distracted by books. Once she left and Dobby popped away to prepare dinner, Harry turned to the so-far-silent blonde witch.

  "Ready, Tracey?"

  "As ready as I'll ever be. I'm not sure about Daddy, but Mummy should be home, even if First Mummy could be with Daddy." She grabbed some floo and tossed it into the fmes. "Greengrass Manor."

  Filing away the adorable way the girl called both her mothers, they stepped through the green fmes and appeared in the familiar foyer of Greengrass Manor.

  Finally, a normal-sized chapter. I was tempted to skim through this final time-travelling jump, but so much stuff ended up happening! The intrigue just writes itself.

  Notice the changes I've made to Aberforth. He is rarely used in fiction and the little we see of him in the books promises potential but not much was used.

  This has been a very long day for the trio, but they have not seen anything yet. Or, well, Hermione is just gonna be chilling in her own personal library while being attended to by an energetic elf.

  Meanwhile, Harry and Tracey will have to do all the legwork.