12

"In the stream of time, it's where your power grows..."

Apparating when you're in the midst of spellcasting is a good way to get yourself splinched, and, when the spell was as powerful as this one, perhaps fatally.

"I pledge myself to conquer..."

I couldn't even move from the spot where I was standing! My legs were not obeying me, and my arms were busy cradling and forming the energy!

"All the foes who stand!"

By now, sensing either the power that was now running through me or seeing the cascades of light I was giving off, my guests had stirred from their nests and were poking their noses out into the living room, wondering what was going on.

"Against the mighty gift bestowed, in my unworthy hand!"

I also realized, belatedly, that I was now shouting out the words to the spell. Fortunately for me, I'd always thought of and used a version without any pledges to darkness of any kind. It just wasn't worth it even to think in those terms, make that especially not to think in those terms. 'As a man thinketh, so is he,' and frankly Darkness just wasn't any fun.

Some people forgot to mention that happiness, joy, peace and satisfaction... the Light Side are they! And once you start down the Dark path, you stop to a greater or lesser extent being able to feel them. And, well, that messed you up pretty badly right there.

Even if Darkness did give power, you stopped being able to enjoy it!

"DRAGON..."

I found my mouth filled by something and couldn't complete the last word. It felt like a tongue, but it wasn't mine. I mean, I'm pretty sure it wasn't in there before this, and...

I realized I'd closed my eyes. On opening them, I discovered a ball of energy congealed in my hands and a familiar witch holding my face, kissing me rather forcefully.

The ball of energy sputtered and died, as negative energies cannot coexist in the same body with positive ones like love and so on, and I was a sucker for a pretty witch. Plus, we were friends. She must have felt my dread and come out of the closet where I had so rudely tossed her. But she was smiling as she released me and stood back.

Hermione was burning with... something, indignation perhaps? Moria was standing close by her mother and Miranda was shocked, too much so for me to read anything at all but that in her face and stance. However, as Bellatrix stepped away from me, it was Harry who asked the first question.

"What sort of spell was that?"

I chuckled, amused and relived both at the same time. Sitting myself down on the couch I managed to explain, "That, Harry, was the single most dangerous spell you are ever likely to see. Over a thousand years ago a wizard like me used it to slay a dragon in a single shot; from this event, it came to be known as the 'Dragon Slayer' spell. Although, over the years the name did become corrupted a bit until it got to be known as the 'Dragon Slave'. It requires a bit of punch behind it to get it properly powered, and frankly I'd never succeeded before in casting it. But in the wake of dealing with your family's misery I was feeling a bit more wound up than usual, and as I mumbled the words under my breath trying to distract myself before I went to sleep... Well, you saw." I waved toward where I'd been standing, closer to the window.

Of course, that was all true... in the Slayers universe, NOT the Harry Potter one. But then, it wasn't likely that anyone could tell.

I flashed a grateful smile up to Bellatrix.

I began shaking my head, still smiling up at her. "I should never have been so careless."

"And... what would it have done?" Harry was shaking his head in confusion.

I turned my head to look at him, beholding his family as well, sitting rather slack in my seat as I did so. "Probably destroyed a large portion of the city of London. There was no place safe to aim it, the safest would probably have been up, but even I don't know if it would have detonated on the ceiling or punched straight through the roof to explode in the sky above, and the spell's destructive power is unmatched by anything known to wizard kind. I..."

A rush of guilt had come over me at the thought and my previous relaxed attitude evaporated. In the manner of a desperate man lunging for a toilet before he hurls, I sprang forth off of the sofa and slammed open the window, bursting out onto the balcony just before that ball of incredible energy rematerialized in my hands.

"DRAGON SLAVE!"

The ball became a beam as I pointed my cupped hands upwards, firing off into space at a slight angle in case, like one of Ryoga's depression blasts, it came right back down after reaching its highest point.

I needn't have worried. The spell had an extremely long range, as it must have to cast it safely, given the area and force of its destructive power. And like a fireball, if it has struck nothing before it reaches the end of that range it goes off right there, treating its own extremity as a trigger. We got away with an extremely bright fireworks display that turned the night sky a vivid orange for a few moments, the booming crack of the explosion following moments later.

Unfortunately, the phenomena known as Electro Magnetic Pulse was not unique to nuclear explosions. I am told it is present in any explosion, no matter the size, but that in nothing short of nuclear does the effect become pronounced enough to become noticeable or damaging to any degree.

Just like a sparrow is not going to knock you around in the turbulence of its passage, but a big passenger jet flying just as close might. Or rather, would.

So, since the spell creates an explosion on a level of some nukes, my Dragon Slave sent a burst of EMP out over London proper.

The muggles were NOT going to be happy!

Of course, most of those complaints were probably going to be on the order of, "The cable is out!? OH NO!"

I collapsed back down to the ground, hair white and exhausted. Bellatrix and Miranda almost shoved each other aside trying to catch me, so neither succeeded and I got a couple of bumps.

Nevertheless, they brought me to the couch, and laying me there upon it, I had those two bustling about with blankets or hot chocolate, while Hermione stood over me with a worried expression on her face, and...

... A copy of 'Magical Me', Lockhart's autobiography clutched in her arms. It would seem that the pretty little witch had been trying to read herself to sleep.

I then saw where the bookmark was inside it, or rather bookmarks. I could see she'd been marking favorite pages by the amount of turned down corners apparent. Taking a glance at my study, the room she'd taken over for the night, I could see a pile of very familiar books had spilled out of her bookbag, all of them bearing multiple bookmarks and turned down pages, and every last one I could see by me.

Conclusion: Hermione had been reading my novels all this past week, and if the look of deeply concerned adoration on her face was any way to judge, was every bit as smitten with me as before, in the books I mean, well, you get the idea.

My favorite character had just developed a fangirl crush on me. Was I some sort of irony magnet, or something?

Bella brushed back in with the hot chocolate just as Miranda finished juggling the blankets for perfect patient comfort and protection from chills. So I felt I ought to jump in with some explanations to seize the initiative and steer a clear course between the awkward questions that might follow.

"First things first," I declaimed, panting softly, glad to have that crisis passed and raising an illustrative finger to make my point clear. "My white hair is temporary, a sign of extreme magical exhaustion. It shall return to its natural color in a few days, although I believe I'll have to eat quite a few very hearty meals in the meantime. The amount of energy that spell takes is extreme."

"I'll bet," Harry whispered in awed tones, having seen the enormous size of the blast out through the window.

Hermione was nodding eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, as she clutched the bound book to her chest and agreed, "Yes. To slay a dragon in a single shot... I bet there isn't another wizard alive who could have cast such a spell. Not even Dumbledore has access to thousand-year-old forgotten magic!"

"Quite," I acknowledged her point with a nod before hurrying on lest this conversation side-track itself.

I quickly met the eyes of Bellatrix, and she gave me a small nod. My Imperious curse on her failed in the wash of grief over her misdeeds the moment after I'd removed the pleasure/pain reversal curse, and I'd not even known about it until days later, hardly being an expert with that spell.

But the fact was that she had had ample chance to betray me during that time and had not used it. So a certain amount of trust had arisen from that, and I wasn't about to go spilling her secrets without permission.

"Now to the next main issue. Everyone, I'd like you to meet the Death Eater I'd shoved into the closet on your arrival." I motioned to Bellatrix, who did not move even as the family startled around her. So I rushed on to explain, "I captured her a little over a week ago now, because I found it necessary to use her influence to destroy certain objects relating to our most recent Dark Lord, which I shall be explaining all about in a moment."

Seeing I still had their attention, I continued at a somewhat hurried pace. "Frankly, when I first took her into my custody it was my intention to see her punished for her crimes as soon as I had no more use for her aid in recovering the item. However, since then I came to find she was not in her right mind when committing those vile misdeeds, and has begun feeling more terrible than I can describe over them. So it is no longer up to me to punish her, and that's a situation that's going to have to be resolved another way, possibly through the courts, although those have bungled enough jobs of this that I'm no longer certain we can trust them to do the right thing."

I turned my head so I could meet everyone's eyes. "Tomorrow afternoon I shall take her in to meet Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, to plead her case, and we shall decide there what is to become of her. Now back to the very important reason I sought her out in the first place. Bella?"

The former LeStrange had already anticipated my need and brought forth the cup. I accepted it from her and held it in my lap, too weak to raise it up for everyone to look at.

I gave them all a cheerful, triumphant smile. "Though it may not look like a great deal, this is one of the most precious artifacts in the wizarding world. It is a cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, who enchanted it with many powers. You can even see her mark on the bottom." I turned it over so they could do so.

Eyes widened, even, it must be said, on Bellatrix who'd not known that about that trifling detail.

"However," I went on, feeling rather jaunty. "It is not for that reason I sought it out. As priceless a historical artifact as this is, there was a much more pressing concern for me to recover it."

I gave them all a much more serious expression. "Our last Dark Lord is not quite dead." I dropped the bombshell on them, startling many all over again. "He is a spirit, a wraith if you will, tied to this Earth by immortality rituals he performed. Harry has defeated him twice now, once when he was a baby, and once more during the end of that last school year when he was possessing your last Defense teacher. At present, he cannot be destroyed completely, and he will never stop trying to return. However, the good news is that his immortality comes from having prepared soul anchors. This object is one such. Once they all are destroyed, he can be forever defeated. And if they are destroyed while he still lacks a body he should vanish away like vapor, never to return, passing on to an eternity of unbearable agony from having shredded his own soul, the ultimate form of self-inflicted punishment."

I sighed, panting for a moment to regain my breath and a little stunned at how weak I was. After gratefully gulping down the cup of chocolate, I gave the group a reassuring smile. "The Dark Lord Voldemort was born a boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle, and it will be that name I'll using to refer to him, as he has the power to cast a powerful curse over the one he made up, a curse that both gives him or his followers power to locate whoever says it, and also strips away any protective spells they may be under. Thus the reason why so many wizarding folk are afraid to say his name."

I met the eyes of Harry and Hermione. "Yes. I know that Dumbledore told you there is no reason to fear a name. In that, he was not entirely correct. While there may be small reason to fear it now, if you develop the habit of saying it you may find yourself in trouble when or if he does return. So, better still to call the Dark Idiot by the name his mother gave him, and not the one he made up himself. Or make up your own. Frankly, I'm rather fond of calling him Moldyshorts, the Dark Wanker, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Smelled."

A burst of grins and giggling all around, which relieved laughter was exactly the sort of response I'd sought.

It was a good feeling to be able to do things like that!

Anyway, gracing them all with congratulatory grins, I pontificated more. "In his search for immortality, Tom Riddle tore apart his own soul and placed bits of it in priceless relics, objects that he felt no one could ever bear to destroy, and while those objects existed, he could not be permanently killed." I raise the cup again, weakly. "This, as I said, is one of them. However," I gave them all a saucy wink. "Tom didn't reckon on me. I have found a way to break those spells he cast to seal his soul fragments into those objects he chose, and transfer them into easily disposable ones."

On making that comment I decided to rewrite the appropriate section of the book I was preparing on Voldemort, using a suitably edited version of this conversation as my source, instead of a too-accurate version I feared I now had, which while illustrative to some, might serve others as a 'How To' guide.

Besides, this way I could toot my own horn a bit, which was very Lockhart.

I leaned back, giving them all a satisfied stare, disguising the fact that I was too weak to sit up any longer. "Tom Riddle tore off six bits of his soul, five on purpose and one by accident. Of those six, I have already sought out and destroyed three, and two more are in this room. This cup is one of them."

Harry froze, eyes getting wide. His family leaned in toward him to comfort him, all those bright minds coming to the same conclusion.

Sadly, I nodded. "Yes, Harry. Tom Riddle didn't intend to put a piece of his rotten, filthy soul inside you, but he didn't intend to die on his own curse after bouncing it off of your face, either."

I gave them all a very sad, solemn look. "I'm sorry, Harry, that I only became involved in your life after a seer I know of spelled out rather plainly the next several years of your life. Dumbledore arranges for you to be tortured and brutalized, starved and abused and finally mind-raped by his servant Snape until you break and commit suicide." I sighed. "He felt this was necessary to defeat Tom Riddle at last. And so he sacrificed you, like a pawn he controlled, 'for the Greater Good' a phrase he's rather fond of, I'm afraid."

Harry had paled so badly he was inventing new shades of white.

His family hardly fared any better. Hermione was actually worse!

Yes, to my mind, walking openly up to Voldemort and LETTING him kill you counted as suicide! And Albus had even admitted arranging to break Harry to such a degree that he'd be willing to do that.

Of course, Harry had Author's Fiat to bring him back afterwards. But the situation made a hash out of Trelawnry's prophecy. If Harry had to die for Voldemort to die, but was unable to pass on fully himself while Voldemort lived because of the blood connection used in his resurrection ritual, then instead of "Neither can LIVE while the other survives" it ought to have been "Neither can DIE while the other survives!" because that matched the actual facts on the ground Rowling had written out!

But, then, I wouldn't put it passed Rowling to have Dumbledore lie about the actual contents of the prophecy. I mean, he'd lied about everything else!

I actually chuckled, breaking the spirit of gloom rather sharply. "Oh! But it was all UNNECESSARY! Harry! You only have to cast a single spell to remove the fragment of the Dark Lord's ugly soul from out of your body! That will put an end to feeling pains from your scar and allow it to be healed properly at last! You'd sever your connection to him permanently! And stop having those dreadful dreams - like do you recall the one from early on in your first year at Hogwarts? The first night you slept in the Gryffindor dormitory as I recall, you had a nightmare about Quirrel's turban on your head, demanding that you insist on being re-Sorted into Slytherin! Harry! THINK! That turban was what concealed Voldemort! You had a twinge in your scar every time that teacher looked at you, and the spirit of your enemy was trying to command you in that dream to enter the house where he could most easily reach you!"

Harry's jaw had fallen open and one hand had flown up to finger his scar, as his family reacted in varying degrees of shock and horror.

But I stopped them before they could freak out about it too terribly much. "That bit of Voldy's soul was the reason the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin. All of that ENDS when you cast a spell I have in a book in this house right now!" I snapped my fingers and sent Bella for it.

There was a fierce fire of resolve in her eyes as she brought it.

"Secrets of the Darkest Art?" Moria read from the cover, her elder siblings being too deeply gone in shock right now for talking.

I nodded. "Yes, Moria. Good girl. You see, this is the book on how to create those soul anchors Tom Riddle is using, and I had to find a copy to see how to undo them. There was actually a copy of this book in the Hogwarts library, and that is where our enemy learned how to do this. But Dumbledore, who has had access to this book since he was a teenager, never bothered to decode those spells to do as I have done and create an alternate method of destroying them."

I returned my attention to Harry, who now clutched the open copy of the book. "Okay Harry, in its simplest form, to create a soul-anchor a wizard first has to tear his soul into pieces, creating a fragment which he can then implant in an object to create an anchor. He does this by committing an act of murder. Then he casts the spell before you to do the actual implanting. HOWEVER," I raised a very stern hand and matched it with a gaze. "You are not going to be doing anything ill intentioned. You are not trying to achieve immortality, or the very false illusion of it this gives. NO, all you want to do is expel that piece of Voldemort that he once lodged inside you. So you will not commit murder. You will not do anything of the sort. There is no need." I stated forcefully, then followed it up with a smile. "All you want to do is expel that bit of his soul already inside you, not tear your own to pieces."

Nods all around. Good.

I gave them a very comforting expression and tones. "Yours is still whole and we all want it to remain that way. However, that spell I marked on the page the book is open to is designed to take a soul fragment, created by murder, and take it out of you to put it into something else. All of my research says that if you cast that spell alone, then the fragment of foreign soul already inside of you will be what is taken away, leaving your own still whole and undamaged - and more importantly the only tenant in your body. We can then destroy whatever object you put Riddle's soul piece into. I've been using those ugly coffee mugs you'll find on the shelf over there."

I met all of their gazes, then asked directly, "Are we sure we understand each other? All Harry is doing here is cleaning house, removing what should never have been put into him in the first place. Right?"

I got some rather weak nods, and 'right's. But that was to be expected, they were already emotionally exhausted by the tragedy of their family breaking up earlier that day. The Dragon Slave spell and Death Eater revealed soon after were great shocks, but drawing on a nearly dry well.

It was amazing they weren't all passing out on me, I'm afraid. It looked like the whole crowd of them were only awake due to the adrenaline rushes.

"Good," I sighed. "Because this is something that can never be mentioned to ANYONE! That book is not kidding when it calls this process 'The Darkest Art' and you cannot pause or explain things to crowds. If anyone catches so much as a rumor that Harry has ever cast that spell, the entire world will jump out of their seats to hunt him down like he was Voldemort all over again. They'll take it that badly, and won't pause or listen to us explain how he was never doing any evil, just undoing some harm that was done to him."

I caught all of their eyes. "This has got to be our own private little victory over Tom Riddle. We'll never be able to put this in a book, I'm afraid." I gave them all a wry grin that turned into a yawn. "Most people must never know that Harry even had this problem." I then waved with the hand that wasn't covering my mouth. "Harry, if you please?"

Startled, the boy nodded. Bellatrix had already brought him a coffee mug. Once she did so, I motioned her close and had her transfigure both mugs into frogs, then had her cast the spell to transfer Voldy's soul piece from Helga's cup to one paralyzed frog.

I then Obliviated it down to nothing (something that made my eyes cross and me nearly pass out from dizziness over severe magical strain) and then she finished it off with an Avada Kedavra.

After collecting the fallen out memories.

I was nearly in la-la-land, so did nothing more than contemplate my own haze while Bellatrix carefully taught Harry how to cast the spell. Once he did, she did the Obliviation of the second paralyzed frog herself before finishing it off with another Avada Kedavra.

I passed out, flopping down on my covers, unable to bear with the magical strain. Then it was apparently 'Family Bed' time, as Bellatrix simply enlarged the couch and covers and everyone crawled in with me like a pile of puppies.

We slept like the dead, too.

OoOoO

I woke up in the morning to the smell of breakfast being prepared, and shot out from under my covers like a hungry wolf to go feed. Somewhere along the way I'd noticed that there was a pile of humanity where I'd been asleep, but thought nothing of it. There are times when it is very comforting to children to be able to crawl in the same beds as their parents, and apparently they'd all elected this as one of those times.

This better not happen too often. I'd had a brother who let his kids climb in to their parent's bed as toddlers seeking the comfort of having mom and dad close all of the time - and they'd nearly been ten before he could get them to sleep in their own rooms again.

Sort of thing made it hard to give your kids any siblings.

I don't know why Miranda and Bellatrix crawled in, though. But since they did, and all of the adults were in one place, the children seeking comfort from the presence of those responsible grown-ups would follow.

Or, so I supposed.

Once having calmed the raging beast within my stomach somewhat, I settled down to have a real breakfast with the rest of the family, thinking nothing of eating what was essentially two meals, one on top of the other. At least Lina's table manner's weren't rubbing off on me.

The family was neither talkative nor happy, having been emotionally worn out by severe shocks from three different directions now. So, seeing no better remedy for it, I bundled everyone into 'Sunday Going To Meeting' clothes and hustled us all off together to church.

Tonks joined us on our way out.

Muggle London was in a somewhat orderly state of chaos. Traffic lights were not working, but most cars did (having been off at the time of the explosion or shielded by their own metal housings or garages or the like), so the roads were a nightmare. Bobbies were out in force to keep down the looting, and I had to suppress a grin at the statement of the fallibility of human nature when I saw several cops that were actually doing some looting of their own.

Security features like cameras, alarms and so on had all been disabled by the EMP, so some adventurous individuals were making themselves free with the contents of banks or jewelry stores.

A free wheeling, party atmosphere prevailed. 'Anything Goes' and 'Devil May Care' attitudes seemed to be the rule of the day.

And, unlike when the riots happened in Los Angeles, here there were no shop owners with guns to sit on their own rooftops to prevent the ransacking.

Stopping in briefly at a convenience store, I bought a generic envelope and paper and typed a quick note to the muggle prime minister, saying "Aha! Now you have had a taste of my power! If you do not pay my thirty four pounds and eleven pence in parking fees, I will nuke the city again! MWAHAHAHAHA!" And sticking it with a stamp dropped it in the mail.

Yes, sometimes my good humor does overcome my good judgment. But NOT so far as to leave fingerprints or saliva on that letter!

It was a joke, but governments have absolutely no sense of humor.

I even had Dora cast a Scourgify on it for me, to remove any trace of hair or skin cells, or dust, or... well, anything really. I'd have done it myself but my hair was still white and I didn't feel like taking a nap right then, right there. Besides, I was saving what energy I had for later.

Needless to say, I didn't owe any parking fees.

Then it was off to church, which I think did everyone alot of good, as it gave exactly what they needed - tools to deal with their shock and grief. I even grabbed the bishop, taking him aside long enough to ask for a promise to be willing to listen to Bellatrix' confession after she turned herself in.

From church, it was straight to the Ministry, with Bella under one of my invisibility cloaks until we got to the appropriate office. Once we'd all gotten in to see Amelia Bones, Bella surrendered herself into custody in exchange for a promise of another trial, and I placed the information I had, namely about the insanity caused by the pleasure/pain reversal spell, into Amelia's hands, who promised to have someone look into it, but it had good prospects of getting her off with time already served.

Albus in particular had a weak spot for villains attempting redemption. So it had an excellent chance of being a quick yet successful trial.

Then I took a moment to snag the previously engaged bishop, pop him in to hear her confession in her cell, leave instructions with the guards on how and where to return him when they were done, then it was off to Godric's Hollow to see the Potter House, war memorial, and some graves.

It was a good time to reconnect to Harry's family, soothing somewhat the wounds of all as they helped him to reach and resolve that deep ache JKR had only ever made worse for the poor lad.

By my deliberate intent, we started at the gravestones. I'd carefully made sure each of us were bearing gifts to lay upon their graves. On our way past I pointed out the markers for Dumbledore's mother and sister, mentioning off the cuff how that family had once lived there (and letter everyone else draw from that the conclusion that Dumbledore had never told them, never made that connection with Harry when Harry was desperate for connections) and once we arrived at Lily and James' grave I promptly gave a little service for the benefit of Harry, drawing on experience and material from the many funerals I'd been to, including my youngest brother's, my son's, and also my grandmother's, as well as ones recalled from my stolen memories.

It was cathartic, as those things are meant to be.

Feeling a little drained, everyone tromped out at last and I steered us by the war memorial, where we looked on the happy faces of the once living Potter family immortalized there in stone. After that it was on to the house.

I was very careful to take our tour in that order, from the lowest point to the highest, as, once we'd reached the partially ruined building, I gave Harry a gentle instruction to open the yard gate and house door.

Once inside, we started fixing everything.

A Sea Witch, unsurprisingly, lives on salvage to a very great degree, and the sea is a very unforgiving place to most materials. So drawing on her skills and knowledge it was easy to restore the ten plus years of weather damage the house had taken, being exposed to the wind and rain. Due to the nature of those skills restoring the burned out roof and walls was also quite easy for me, as things often burned while sinking, and this was something a proper sea witch learned to deal with long ago.

I was fortunate indeed it was easy, as I still wasn't up to much.

I had hoped, this whole trip long, that the act of being here and restoring his parents' home from ruin, collecting their things and reveling in the memories long since denied him would assist Harry in overcoming some large part of his grief over losing them.

Sealing those wounds to his parents' home also did a good deal toward curing those injuries inflicted on Harry's soul. And, as I had hoped, helping Harry to overcome that grief of loss, and restore his parents' home was also helping the former Grangers deal with their own peculiar family-related griefs, setting them aside to help Harry.

A wonderful thing about good deeds, the benefit they gave was contagious.

The rest of our day was spent there, finding photographs and journals, baby things Harry had long forgotten, and putting it all in order while Harry went about learning more of his family, home, and first year of life than he'd ever imagined. Dora even helped us to make dinner in the Potter's kitchen, and we ate on china and silverware they'd once used, around the table in the dining room of their home.

Before this, I had magically reinforced Harry's memories of his first year of life, and since then we had often had occasion to visit, in the memories of Horace Slughorn and Minerva McGonagall, more about his family, but being there, finding mementos and things we'd remembered from those made it all turn from a number of insubstantial dreams into a comforting reality.

We were here. We knew these people, in a sense, and finding their belongings under his eagerly questing fingers was doing Harry a world of good.

In that way we spent the entire week.

It was a small home for so large a crowd of us, but no worse than my condo, really. After our first evening there we started to get guests, visitors from the magical part of the village. Often they would tell us stories or regale us with their own memories of the Potters.

Thankfully, I'd brought along my pensieve, so once a choice bit got mentioned we could make a request for that guest to take it out so we could all view it.

And, to our amusement and sometimes our visitor's horror, sometimes that caused them to back down from an exaggeration or falsehood they'd been making. But most often we got to enjoy precious scenes of the lives of our little dark haired hero's family, filling in much more of what we knew of them.

By the second day, the kids had even taken to questing about town to seek and find out people who'd known the Potters so they could interview them and discover more material we could view in our pensieve.

And they scored some real catches. Professor Flitwick was there visiting friends, and from him they wheedled out the Marauder's years of Charms classes. They uncovered former teammates of James, so they got those Gryffindor Quidditch matches he'd played for (first as Chaser, then in later years as a Seeker) along with all of the after game parties.

It had been three subjective weeks since I'd imbibed any foreign memories, and would you believe I'd begun to miss it? It was a relief to start pouring more knowledge into my head once again, believe me.

Having got Flitwick we took a morning and tracked down their Astronomy teacher and Kettleburn as donors, getting their Care of Magical Creatures studies on top of everything else (a class all of the Marauders took, seeing as how one of their number was a werewolf).

Bathilda Bagshot came as a surprise to me, as she'd not only been the history teacher during those Marauding days (their first four years, anyway, before her cataracts got so bad she could no longer see to read and thus grade papers, so Binns took over that position, as boring alive as he'd later prove to be as a ghost) but she'd also dropped by Lily and James Potter most days to see to the young family and regale them with stories. And the woman was a frightfully good storyteller. She could even get me to spray my milkshakes on occasion with a cunning remark and careful timing.

Getting her to share those memories (which included her regaling young Lily and James with tales of a young Albus Dumbledore, thus more than tripling our knowledge of the man) was a real treasure.

The old lady also had a wicked sense of humor.

It was, all told, a good and productive week for dealing with grief, setting down roots and feeling you had a family. Toward the end of which Miranda, who had been a quiet shadow of her former self all of this time, approached me, wiping tears from her eyes, and asking, "Gilderoy, now more than ever I am convinced the children need a male role model in their lives. And, since I've known you longer than anybody, and you are so good at dealing with them... I was wondering... well?"

She swallowed, turning hopeful eyes up to me. "Would you please, I mean... would you give them all 'The Talk'? It's time they ought to know."

OoOoO

I think it broke some sort of record that I was able to give 'The Talk' to a mixed audience of children without blushing, hesitating or pausing once, that I did it with in complete good humor and without a hint of embarrassment.

It really wasn't that big a deal to me, although I did get enjoyment over how the kids squirmed at parts.

"Okay," I said, once I'd gotten them all sitting down together facing me. "Your mother has asked me to give you a lesson commonly referred to as 'The Birds and The Bees', that basically answers the simple question: Where do babies come from?"

There were even some nods at this point. Well, I hadn't gotten to anything embarrassing yet.

I smiled to encourage them. "Okay, it boils down to something I can illustrate with a simple comparison. You're all very good at Potions by now. Babies are made from two ingredients, one that boys create inside their bodies, and one that girls create in theirs. The girl has a soft cauldron tucked inside her tummy, the boy has a rod that hangs outside of a corresponding place. You stir the cauldron with the rod, the ingredients mix and a baby is made. Sometimes a couple will have to try that process several times, sometimes it works on the first attempt."

Hermione raised her hand, pinking slightly and with a weird quasi-smile on her lips.

"Yes, Hermione?"

She dropped her hand and asked, "That's a little vague, isn't it?"

I nodded, smiling for her. "Yes, Hermione, it is, deliberately so. Most people have great difficulty discussing the subject without embarrassment, so we start with only the most vague description. Do you think you are all ready for the next level of detail?"

All eager nods once again.

"Good." I leaned forward, lacing my hands together before I released them to pick up a sock one of the girls had discarded on the floor as they'd all taken off their shoes earlier. I held it dangling, so that the top was an open, round hole. "The cauldron in a girl's tummy is called a womb, and if you could see it it looks a lot like this sock I am holding." The sock was, in fact, pink. "The entrance to this is between the girls legs, only the hole is squeezed shut to look like this." I pinched the round hole at the top of the sock to a straight, thin line, closing the opening.

"Now the boy parts aren't hidden, except by clothes," I continued. "But the rod I mentioned isn't too different looking to a finger, only I am told average for adults is about six inches long and about as big around as a banana. You heat the cauldron to the appropriate temperature for mixing babies by giving the girl kisses and touching her bikini places. Then the boy places the rod into the cauldron like so," I put my finger into the sock, "and stirs with an in and out motion. This feels very good, so good in fact that once you start it is very difficult to stop. This brings us to our next subject, which is marriage."

I put down the sock, as it had served its purpose as a visual aid, and did my best to pretend not to notice all of those little blushes all around. Hermione was worst of all even as she attempted studious attention.

I gazed at them with loving fondness, yet also serious. "The circumstances under which a baby is made are going to influence it for its whole life. A baby has a right to be raised in a loving home environment with both a mother and a father, each of whom are programed by nature to give it different things. Mothers are very concerned with seeing that babies are clean, well fed, warm and safe. This is a good thing. Fathers are also programmed, they want to play with their children. Neither of these approaches are wrong! BOTH are necessary for a child's full development. Children learn things while they play, it is how they develop their minds. Similarly, you wouldn't want their bodies not to be cared for. They need both, and the experts on how to deliver each are naturally programmed to provide them. Trying to substitute will only give you second rate results, as no replacements are as good. A poor start can be compensated for later in life, but it is an initial disadvantage."

I gazed at them with full seriousness now. "The two things Satan desires to mess up most of all are how people enter this world, and when they leave it. If he can see to it that we get a terrible start, without a loving family, we are weaker and more susceptible to all sorts of other things. Likewise, when a person is doing good he wants to remove them from this life as soon as possible, to limit the amount of good they can do. Thus, you can expect every circumstance imaginable to try to test you, tempting you to do those things that would bring a baby into this world early, when you aren't prepared to care for it properly. Also, if you are doing well, expect some seemingly random violence as The Enemy of All tries to remove you from life so that you will stop interfering with his plans to hurt other people, mess them and their lives up and generally spread harm and misery."

My gaze was now sad. "But, in our modern times, Satan has come up with a way to combine both of his favorite strategies. First he tempts people to make babies inappropriately, then he has them destroy those lives in the womb so those little ones have their times cut short to where they can do no good to the rest of us at all!"

Miranda, who was leaning against the door jam with her arms folded, chose to interrupt with an observation. "You feel strongly on the issue of abortion, don't you?"

I nodded, returning her gaze. "Yes. My father tried to have me aborted. My mother wouldn't let him, and so here I am."

Her eyes widened slightly and I returned my attention to the kids before me, several of whom (all of the girls) had gasped at my revelation.

I now gave them a full on grin. "Fortunately, God is greater than Satan, and can foil him in all of his attempts, IF we give our lives to Him and earnestly strive to follow our Lord's commandments, and that includes His instructions for how and when to bring our children into this world. And the institution He has provided is called Marriage. I'm sure you've heard of it." I finished with a wry grin.

Lots of nods all around and the blushes and little squirmings from before had quieted down, although not disappeared entirely.

I sat up straight and taller, slapping my palms onto my knees as I changed the tone of the proceedings. "Good! Now, the way it used to be was that a boy and a girl could meet and a week later marry, going on to live a happy life together for the rest of their stay in mortality. Sadly, this is no longer the case, there are too many poison people out there. Also, we have been divided on practically every issue imaginable, with sharp lines of disagreement on so many sides as to make finding someone who agrees with you on all of them practically impossible. Disagreements are the seed of contention, and that is a force which leads to arguments, which can tear apart even strong couples. So, ideally, it is better to marry young, before you have many of your views as strongly formed, and are more willing to compromise. The older you get, the more set in your ways you become, and the harder it is to give in on things and change so you can get along comfortably together."

I gave them my finest Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile, raising a finger and angling my head. "But it is also a good idea to have well developed conflict resolution skills. Learn to discuss, not argue. Make points in logical, well reasoned approaches, then allow your partner to do the same. Once you understand each other either the problem will cease to exist or you will at least be able to see where a solution might lie. For example, Miranda, will you join me in a little role-play?"

I gestured her into the room.

She came.

"Good." I stood to face her. "Now, let us pretend we are of different political parties, an issue many feel places them as near mortal enemies. Let us say, for sake of argument alone, that we are both Americans, and belong to the major parties there."

She nodded.

"Very well," I nodded, turning my attention fully to Miranda. "Well, the first thing I think we need to establish is that you and I are not stereotypes. I am not all Republicans, just as you are not all Democrats. I am not to blame for everything my party says or does, just as you are not for yours. I am not responsible for all the bad, or the good, that may justly be attributed to the party to which I belong, nor do I necessarily hold all of the same views. We are individuals, not avatars presenting an embodiment of our different parties. Are we agreed on that point?"

"Yes," she agreed. "I've never believed in stereotypes."

It was strange, I thought, how many people said that and how few meant it, immediately rushing in to use stereotypes on most any issue. But I ignored that as that wasn't the point I was trying to make now. That was a topic for another time.

"Good," I smiled with relief. "Now we both believe there are problems with this world, we even see most of the same things as problems. The only difference that lies between us is that we have bought into different lines of logic, presented by our different parties, on how to fix them."

"Yes," now she was smiling in relief.

"Excellent!" I turned to look upon the children. "Do you see how this works? Once you have established you are not enemies, you can DISCUSS things! You must never ever approach something like this as a case of 'You are wrong and I must defeat you!' You instead build on common ground. We really don't disagree on the heart and core of the matter: there are problems we both feel should be fixed. Once you can reach common agreement you are on the same side, working together on how to fix things, as opposed to enemies who spend all of their time and effort on defeating each other, while the problems get neglected or grow worse."

I sighed, setting my hands on my hips before crouching down to speak close to the kids. "Also, learn to tell the difference between what really matters and what doesn't. People also give sports teams the same type of devotion they once gave to their religion. But what does that matter? My being a fan of a cool team is not some type of magic spell that somehow, mysteriously, makes me a better person."

Seeing Hermione begin to open her mouth, I cut her off. "No. I've looked it up. It doesn't."

She blushed and mumbled, still showing evidence of being smitten by me. Ah! So that's why she'd been reacting worst of all the kids. I suppose it would be odd to be given 'The Talk' by your crush.

Girl still had it bad, too.

Smiling back upon them again, I continued. "Really, sports are a game. They are meant to be fun, not bring fans to blows over which team is best. Who cares? Why should anyone care? I thought the whole thing was meant to be something cool to play or watch. All teams have good points and bad, some even trade players around like you do socks, so enjoy what there is to enjoy and don't be drawn into conflicts that establish nothing! The ills of the world are not all going to be resolved tomorrow if 'my team' wins a match today. Voldemort wasn't defeated by the Holyhead Harpies beating out the Chudley Cannons in a quidditch game, and you shouldn't pretend that he was, or that it has that level of importance."

I reached out to hold their shoulders, well, two of the three of them anyway. "Even if you owned a team, or had placed a great deal of money in a bet on the encounter, then at most it is an item of personal significance that will even out in the long run anyway. So, try to see things for what they are, and not for what others believe them to be. Do not think dishonestly or fool yourself, as only one who knows what a situation is can truly act to change it." I paused to duck my head and draw in a long breath, raising my gaze to meet them all with a dazzling smile. "Reserve your best efforts for that which truly is most important, because if you can handle those everything else will fall in line."

I stood back up, gazing down on them all fondly. "Work when it is time to work, play when it is time to play, and marry when it is time to marry. Make room for all the good you can in life and try to eliminate the bad."

I clapped my hands and grinned at them. "Now, who's up for a visit to Ottery St. Catchpole? I hear you've got a friend there, name of Ron Weasley?"