Reading Time: 149 Minutes

Title: Beautiful Trauma
Author: Keira Marcos
Fandom: Harry Potter/The Sentinel
Relationship: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, OMC/OMC
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fusion, Paranormal, Romance
Warnings: Canon-Typical Fuckery, Explicit Sex, Character Bashing, Minor Character Death, Discussion-Torture, Discussion-Discrimination, Discussion-Oppression, Grammarly Beta
Word Count: 37,151
Author’s Note: This is a bonding fic, not a fic about defeating Voldemort. If I’m not bashing a Weasley in my HP fic, then something is wrong, and I’ve likely been kidnapped and replaced by an equally hot/talented alien, and I need rescuing. And my husband will need therapy. Since I didn’t want to deal with them—there are no Deathly Hallows in this fic. The title is from a P!nk song. I have no reasonable explanation.
Summary: Harry Potter came online as a Sentinel the day of the first task and was ejected from the tournament because he no longer qualified to participate, and was taken into the custody of the International Confederation of Wizards. Years later, he returns to Britain as part of a work group of War Mages sent to investigate the resurrection of Voldemort.

* * * *

Part 1

December 4, 2005 – Rome, Italy

He endured a visual inspection, then opened the slim black wallet that held his ID and showed it to the security guard.

“Good morning, Sentinel Potter, you’re the first of your unit to arrive for the day,” the guard said.

Harry nodded as he slipped the ID into a pocket in his coat. “To be expected, I wanted to get a jump on paperwork. I have a very long, angry report to write about some arseholes in Bulgaria.”

“Heard they got what they deserved,” the guard said wryly and opened the gates.

Harry entered the transportation cage, stilled as he was scanned for polyjuice and glamours. Once the scan was complete, the cage swung around and dropped down a chute. The first time he’d used one, he’d declared it a bigger rush than riding his broom, much to the amusement of his godfather.

He’d come to Rome just three days after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament and hadn’t returned to Britain once since. In truth, he’d rather not ever set foot in the country again and renounced his citizenship both as a magical and as a Muggle as soon as he could. The cage was hooked twice as he traveled then he was deposited somewhat gently at the arrivals point for the War Mages Division of the ICW.

All of the rooms were lit up, but he avoided conversation as much as he could as he headed for the refreshment area to snag some coffee. Harry grabbed a plate of bagels and lox from the preservation charm. He took it all to his office and got settled at his desk after shedding his coat.

His partner’s desk was empty and had been for nearly two weeks since Lucas was in New York. He’d gone to celebrate a holiday with his foster mother—she’d had a choice between American Thanksgiving and Christmas. She’d chosen Thanksgiving because there would be more of Lucas’ foster siblings around.

Harry had taken himself off Bulgaria while his partner had been gone. He’d infiltrated a dark conclave, investigated them for murder and crimes against magic, and been forced to kill half of them to rescue a Muggle-born witch they’d captured to sacrifice. The other half were in prison, waiting to be prosecuted by the World Court of Magic. He owed Louis Bertrand, the Premier of the WCM, a very thorough report, and he’d written a little less than half.

Fortunately, he’d kept extensive notes during the mission, and the real work was organizing the data. He’d written dozens of such reports and appreciated the time it gave him to organize his thoughts. Plus, report writing days were slow and low on stress. Master Ito insisted on timely reporting, so such days were rarely interrupted.

A little knock on his open door caused him to look up and he found Olivia Landy standing in the entry of the room. She was an apprentice healer and had been mentoring with Castius Arnou, Hiro Ito’s Guide and partner, for three years.

“Come in,” Harry said. “Weren’t you in California?”

“I came back last night,” she said and dropped down in the chair next to his desk. “Castius is in Paris, and I’m just making potions today. Wiggenweld potion to be specific. I have ten cauldrons going.” She checked her watch. “I expect to bottle twenty portions from each cauldron. I heard Bulgaria was a real bitch of a time.”

“I killed eight really depraved motherfuckers and arrested nine more,” Harry said, and she grinned at him. “I’m working on reports for it. Are you recruiting help to bottle?”

“Nah, I’ve got the automation set up,” she said and stretched her legs. “I heard a rumor, and I’m…I don’t trust the source enough to make an official report. But I figure you need a head’s up and that you probably do have a source that you can trust to be honest with you.”

Harry put down his quill. “Okay.”

“Voldemort was resurrected in Britain,” she blurted out. “Over a week ago.”

Harry took in a ragged breath and pushed back from his desk. His magic heaved around inside of him, and he touched his old scar just briefly before he forced himself to stop. Shortly after he’d come to Rome, he’d gone through a battery of tests and there had been several healing rituals. One of those rituals had removed a dark magic connection between him and what everyone assumed to be Voldemort’s wraith.

A team of War Mages had gone to Britain to investigate, but they had eventually been ejected from the country by Minister Fudge, who’d protested their presence all the way to the World Court of Magic. As a result, not a single War Mage had set foot in Britain since 1994; Harry was no exception.

“Harry?”

“I’m…. Well, you know I’m not fine.” He exhaled sharply. “But I will be. I do have someone I can call, but I’ll have to do it alone. Thank you for telling me what you heard.” He paused. “Where did you hear it?”

“I have a cousin who is dating a secretary at the British Embassy in New York. He told me that his girlfriend had heard rumors but had no evidence. He told me because he figured it might look good for me at work to have inside information.” Olivia grimaced. “He’s that sort, you know. I didn’t tell him it was useless information without evidence. But then I realized it wasn’t totally useless because I could tell you. I can’t see how this won’t be a problem for you.”

“No, agreed,” Harry said and nodded. “Thanks, Liv, I appreciate it.”

He checked his watch as she left his office with a quick smile, then he closed the door and locked it. It was an hour earlier in London, and Hermione wasn’t due at work for at least two hours. That didn’t mean much of anything since she was much like him when it came to such things and often went to work early.

At the floo, he threw in international powder and knelt with a grimace, then stuck his face in the fire. The fact that communication mirrors were illegal in Britain had never been more galling. “Book Nook, Wales, United Kingdom. Password: Aristotle’s Gateway.”

Hermione’s office was dark, but he heard a little thump then Crookshanks appeared in front of the fire with a purr.

“Hey, old man. Our best girl around?”

Crookshanks yowled, then trotted off. If Hermione hadn’t been at home, the cat would’ve laid down on the rug in front of the fire and listened to Harry complain about it. They’d done it often enough over the years. Shortly, Hermione came into her office, turned on the lights, and knelt in front of the fire holding her cat.

“Harry, is something wrong?”

Her face was lined with stress. “I don’t even think I have to ask this question, but I will. Has Voldemort been resurrected?”

Her eyes welled with tears, and she took a deep breath. “Did you know that ministry employees who are under contract can be given specific orders and put under secrecy restrictions by the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?”

“I know now,” Harry said gently. “And I understand. I’m going to ask you some questions. If you can’t answer them, that’s fine.”

“Okay.”

“Was the restriction placed on verbal and written communication?”

“Yes.”

“That’s great. Okay, I’m going to ask you some questions—nod if the answer is yes.” She nodded, and her shoulders relaxed. “Was anyone hurt or killed during the resurrection?” She nodded quickly. “Is Dumbledore preventing the ICW from being called in?” He got another nod. “Are you safe?”

“Yes, of course. I’m traveling to and from the ministry via portkey,” Hermione said and buried her face briefly against Crookshank’s fur. “And I’ve activated the wards on the cottage you deeded to me in Wales. It’s unplottable, and no one knows my address. I have Gringotts-managed mail ward.”

“Okay, love,” Harry said quietly. “I’m going to commission you an international portkey for emergencies. Pick it up from Master Razel Fireborn at Gringotts before you go to work today, and wear it at all times. I need to know you’re safe, and you’re the only person a Death Eater could get their hands on in Britain…that would allow them to bring me completely to heel.” He paused. “I take it the ministry kept the resurrection from the Horde.” She nodded.

“I heard about Bulgaria,” Hermione said. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Harry said. “It went a little pear-shaped, but I was trained extensively for fieldwork, and Master Ito was on the ground the entire length of the mission acting as my back up since Lucas is in New York.”

“Good. Dumbledore was appalled by what he heard, by the way. He said the Hiro Ito had turned you into a dark wizard and that the ministry should’ve worked harder to get custody of you so they could suppress your abilities as a Sentinel. Of course, I pointed out to him that suppressing a Sentinel against their will is considered a crime against humanity and that the Magical Protectorate would’ve come down on him and the ministry so hard they wouldn’t have survived it.”

“I bet he loved hearing that,” Harry said wryly. “I need you to make me a promise, Hermione.”

“If I can,” she said cautiously.

“Promise me that you’ll use the portkey and that you won’t let any misplaced loyalty to Britain keep you there to fight for people who don’t care if you live or die,” Harry said.

“I promise,” Hermione said quickly. “There are exactly three people in Britain that I would cross the street for, Harry, and the rest can fend for themselves. Even the ones that aren’t outright bigots are just dumb or cowards or dumb cowards.”

Harry laughed. “I’m going to report this to the Protectorate, the WCM, and Master Ito. Technically speaking, another employee in the War Mages Division was told this from someone who overheard a ministry employee speaking out of turn at a family event in New York. So, it can’t come back on you.”

“They’ll be confident that their restrictions on me held,” Hermione said. “And I was the only one ordered to keep my mouth shut, Harry. Like I said—they’re dumb. It probably never crossed Dumbledore’s mind that anyone else would be a problem.”

“Stay safe, Mi,” Harry said, and she smiled.

“Of course, Harry, I promise.”

* * * *

Hermione rushed through the hall from the portkey drop-off and straight to her desk in the DOM, which wasn’t far from her mentor’s. They no longer had a formal relationship as she’d recently finished testing for her mastery in magical theory. She was currently considering her options for her next field of study and was working in the DOM directly under her mentor. It was a two-fold arrangement. Madam Forth liked the buffer between herself and the department and absolutely no one was going to try to steal her employee, so Hermione was safe from incessant job offers in departments she’d never want to work in.

Albus Dumbledore, who’d been reduced down to the single job of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot shortly after Harry left Britain during their fourth year, was determined to keep her in Britain. She assumed because he believed that Harry might eventually return to the country for her, if no one else. She was, after all, one of the few friends he claimed in the whole country.

She ordered breakfast from the ministry café, and a tray appeared on the sideboard in short order. Hermione retrieved it and brooded over her tea while she considered the situation with Voldemort and the information that Harry was certainly going to learn very soon. She didn’t think he’d be all that upset by the fact that Remus Lupin had been killed when the Order of the Phoenix had rescued Hagrid from being kidnapped by Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy.

Lupin had been deeply unreasonable about the whole Sentinel situation and had taken Dumbledore’s side. He’d outright demanded that Harry conform to Britain’s disgusting stance on magical Sentinels and threatened to turn Sirius into the DMLE to get Harry to comply. The result was the catastrophic destruction of Lupin’s friendship with Sirius Black and Harry’s immediate departure from Britain under the care of Hiro Ito.

Hagrid had survived and that had been the silver lining for Hermione in the whole thing. He was at Hogwarts being coddled by Madam Pomfrey as Headmistress McGonagall had come to get him personally when the ministry had tried to keep him. Absolutely no one had been prepared to argue with her, which was just as well because Gryffindors all over the building had started pulling out their wands to defend their head of house.

She plucked up the locket that Razel Fireborn had given her—a piece of jewelry that had come from Rome via portkey shortly before she’d arrived at the bank. An early Yule present from Harry, she’d been told. The locket had been turned into a permanent portkey that would take her directly to Harry’s heavily warded and unplottable property in Rome. A place she’d never been but had been invited to more than once.

Hermione knew she had to guard her heart zealously when it came to Harry Potter because she still had a school girl crush on him, and he was a Sentinel. Online Sentinels in the magical world never had serious relationships with mundanes and that was something she’d made herself accept ages ago. The end result was that she’d turned down a place at the International Academy of Magic because it was in Rome, and she’d never accepted an invitation to visit, either.

“Lovely locket.”

Hermione dropped the locket and sat up straight in her chair. “Thank you, Madam Forth, it’s an early Yule present. How are you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t dating anyone. Who gave you jewelry for Yule?”

Hermione huffed. “I might be dating someone.”

“I have a better love life than you, and I’m nearly a hundred.”

“You are 112,” Hermione retorted, and her mentor laughed. “And my owl has a better love life than me, so it’s not exactly something to brag about. It’s from Harry. He might be on a mission by Yule, so I got it early. He sent some books, too.”

“You keep telling me that young man is just your friend,” Madam Forth said wryly. “I’ve never had a friend give me jewelry made out of bloody mithril.”

“It could be silver or platinum,” Hermione said, and that was certainly what she planned to tell anyone else who asked.

“Sure, it could be,” she allowed. “Except you can’t make a permanent portkey out of silver or platinum. Keep it hidden around Dumbledore. He has mage sight, too.”

Hermione made a face and tucked the locket into her blouse. It fell between her breasts and neatly behind her dragonhide-lined waistcoat. She’d started wearing the lining after the resurrection. It had also been a gift from Harry, and it could be attached to a variety of garments but worked best in a waistcoat, so she had a dozen or so to match various skirts and trousers.

“You’re here early.”

“Yes, because I was summoned,” Madam Forth said sourly. “You and I are having a meeting with Minister Bones in fifteen minutes.”

Hermione made a face. “It’s been an age since I’ve been called up to the minister’s office to be interrogated about Harry.”

“Because I told the minister that it was dragonshite and a waste of your time,” Madam Forth said, and Hermione laughed. “Just because you’re friends with the man doesn’t mean you know a damn thing about what he’s doing for the ICW.”

She knew a lot because Harry wrote to her weekly and often floo called to complain about anything he found offensive. As he’d gotten older, he’d found a lot of stuff offensive. He most especially found Britain offensive, and she hadn’t been surprised when he renounced his citizenship and blamed Albus Dumbledore specifically for it in an interview published in hundreds of papers all over the magical world. Dumbledore’s discrimination against Sentinels and Guides was genuinely appalling, but it wasn’t even uncommon in Britain.

Ten minutes later, they were being led into Minister’s Bones office. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and Albus Dumbledore were also in attendance. Arthur Weasley was the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, and Shacklebolt was the Director of the DMLE. Hermione took a seat at the conference table next to Madam Forth and shook her head when she was offered tea.

“No, thank you, I’ve already had the better part of a pot this morning,” she admitted and smiled when Minister Bones laughed.

“The issue with Voldemort has grown beyond our ability to control,” Minister Bones said. “I’ve been contacted by the ICW, the World Court, and the Magical Protectorate all within the last hour regarding information on his resurrection. I asked how they knew about it, and no one was willing to offer me a name. Miss Granger, did you tell anyone that Voldemort had been resurrected?”

“No,” Hermione said.

Minister Bones stared for a moment, then turned toward Dumbledore. “Albus, if you would confirm the restriction that you placed is still active?”

“I did so when she entered the room,” Dumbledore said and steepled his fingers together. “She’s an intelligent young woman, Minister Bones, but she’s also unfailingly obedient. Miss Granger is probably the only student to ever attend all seven years at Hogwarts and not break a single rule.”

That was fundamentally untrue. She’s just never gotten caught.

“Rules keep society civilized,” Hermione said, and beside her, Madam Forth huffed a little under her breath. “But your real question was about Harry, right? You wanted to know if I’d told Harry Potter if his mortal enemy had been resurrected? The answer is still no. You should start asking people who weren’t put on magical restrictions, Minister Bones.” She paused. “But that would take a month or more, right? Because I was the only one put under a secrecy restriction by the Chief Warlock, which literally left hundreds of employees free to tell anyone they’d like.”

“Your loyalty was in question,” Dumbledore said smoothly.

“I’m the most loyal person I know,” Hermione said. “To those who deserve it.”

“Have you heard from Mr. Potter recently?”

“Yes, in fact, he floo called me this morning to let me know he’d sent me a Yule present through the bank since he wasn’t sure where he would be for the holiday. He didn’t want me to think he’d forgotten me. Now my reading list is twice as long as it was yesterday,” Hermione said. “He even found me a rare first edition of the Root of Magic by Miriam Fig. I’m very excited to read it.”

“Miriam Fig had some unpopular opinions,” Dumbledore said stiffly. “And some foolish ideas about magic.”

“I’m quite good at separating the good from the foolish,” Hermione said evenly, and Mr. Weasley grinned at her. “I’ve been doing it since I entered the magical world, after all. The amount of foolish I’ve had to put with on a daily basis for the last fourteen years is astounding. Regardless, Harry floo called this morning to let me know about my Yule present so I could pick it up from my account manager at the bank and to complain about his mission in Bulgaria.”

“Did he bring up the Dark Lord?” Shacklebolt questioned.

“Harry hates discussing Voldemort and Britain,” Hermione said plainly, and they all made faces at her. “He hates this country, he hates the ministry, he can’t stand most of the people in this building, and he only discusses any of it when I bring it up. Since I can’t discuss Voldemort with him, and I do enjoy having pleasant conversations—I didn’t mention the ministry or anything to do with it, either.”

“Do you believe we could entice Harry Potter to return to Britain?” Minister Bones questioned.

“The only way Harry Potter sets foot in Britain ever again is if his boss orders him to,” Hermione said, and they all gaped at her. Even Madam Forth looked shocked. “And he’ll probably actively resent Master Ito for a decade or more for doing it. I meant it when I said he hates this country. He really won’t return unless he’s made to, and Harry won’t stay for love or money. He’s a Sentinel, and most of the people in this room were actively involved in trying to make him suppress part of his nature. It’s disgusting, honestly.

“He thinks you betrayed him, Chief Warlock Dumbledore, and there is no going back from betraying a Sentinel. There is nothing you can say or do to change how he feels about you and Britain as a result. He’ll be hating this country for your personal actions fifty years after you’re dead and buried.”

“So, in order to get Harry Potter back in his country, I need to invite High Warlock Ito here and request he bring Potter with him,” Minister Bones said and nodded. “Then that’s what I’ll do. Dumbledore remove the restriction order from Miss Granger. I need her to be able to speak freely with Potter when he arrives since she’s probably the only person we have on the payroll that he’ll pay a damn bit of attention to.”

Dumbledore squinted briefly as if he didn’t want to do as he was told but then cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, as the Chief Warlock of the British Ministry of Magic’s Wizengamot, I lift the restrictions placed on you regarding the topic of Voldemort as it pertains to verbal and written communication with Harry James Potter.”

Madam Forth exhaled slowly beside her, and Hermione nudged her mentor under the table. She knew that the older woman had seen the loophole immediately, but that wasn’t her problem. It was Dumbledore’s.

“I’m not going to use my friendship with Harry to try to lure him back to Britain permanently,” Hermione said flatly. “It would be an immense violation of my employment contract for anyone in this room to order such a thing, and it wouldn’t work anyway.”

“I’d never ask such a thing of you, Miss Granger,” Madam Forth said before anyone could speak. “You’re a brilliant young woman of great integrity. I’d also not allow a single person in this whole damned building to seek you to do something so base and dishonorable as that.” She stood, and Hermione stood with her. “Now, we’ve got work to do. Good luck, Amelia, and be prepared to take a knee. Hiro Ito doesn’t give a fuck about Britain or our piddling little dark lord problem, and he won’t unless the Death Eaters start to cause problems internationally.”

Hermione shrugged and offered Mr. Weasley a wave before following her boss out. In the lift, Madam Forth jabbed the appropriate button with her cane and huffed a little.

“That fucking moron didn’t restrict nonverbal communication?”

Hermione laughed.

Madam Forth sighed. “I hate people.”

“Me, too,” Hermione admitted, and a few moments later, followed her boss out of the lift and back to their office. “Also, I’m adding piddling to my active vocabulary immediately.”

Madam Forth grinned and sat down at her desk. “Order me a tray, lass. Bones ruined my whole routine with her foolishness.”

“I hoped that she’d be better than she is, Madam Forth,” Hermione admitted as she retrieved the tray as soon as it arrived and took it to her mentor’s desk.

“It’s been a few weeks since you earned your mastery, Hermione,” she said. “It’s time for you to call me Esmeralda.”

Hermione made a face, and the older woman laughed.

“Minerva told me she had to threaten you with detention to get you to use her given name,” Esmeralda said with a grin and poured herself some tea. “But I insist—it’s a signal to those around us that I consider you my peer, and that’s important for your career.”

Hermione nodded and went back to her desk. “She also threatened to take points from Gryffindor and tell them it was my fault.”

Esmeralda snorted.

“It was honestly the worst as I never lost points for Gryffindor ever the whole time I was there. And for the record, I broke a lot of rules. I just never got caught,” Hermione said.

“Did you want to contact your lad and tell him what you’ve been restricted from telling him?” Esmeralda questioned.

Hermione blushed. “He’s not my anything, you know. He’s a Sentinel, and I know better than to get romantically attached to a man who will eventually bond with another person. No one will be more important than his Guide.”

“It must hurt.”

It did, so she nodded. “It’s an old and accepted hurt.” She wet her lips. “And I believe Minister Bones will have me tell Harry what happened when he arrives. There’s no need to do it twice. They’ll expect me to carry the load with him across the board, and that’s no different than it’s ever been. One of the reasons that Dumbledore resents me so much is that I refused to try to emotionally blackmail Harry into returning to Britain.”

“Well, you know better than to turn your back on that old goat, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said and touched her locket. She could barely feel it through her clothes, and that was a little frustrating, so she pulled it back out of her shirt. “Maybe I don’t care if he realizes I’m wearing a permanent portkey. It’s stupidly dangerous to be a Muggleborn in Britain right now.”

“It is a very expensive magical device,” Esmeralda said. “Beyond the financial scope of most unless it is inherited.”

Hermione nodded.

“It also demonstrates a distinct lack of faith in the ministry.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely not hiding it,” Hermione said. “Because I don’t trust the vast majority of the people in this building to protect themselves, much less me.”

Esmeralda laughed and sat back with her tea after finishing a scone. “How has Amelia disappointed you?”

“I hoped she’d take a stronger stance on women’s rights for a start. Plus, her record regarding creature rights is lackluster, at best. She appears to just be sitting in the seat keeping the status quo. Maybe I’m expecting too much?”

“The Minister for Magic can be a great source for change, or they can create an apathy around them that spreads out over the whole place. I’ve seen many come and go. She is just keeping the seat warm, and that’s a problem considering the problems brewing with Voldemort and his dumbarse followers.

“The only positive thing I can say about her is that she’s light, and I don’t believe she can be corrupted. Her brother was killed by Death Eaters in the 70s, and that will influence her decisions more than anything else going forward. I can’t say it will always be a good influence. It would be best if she called in peacekeepers from the ICW or a Hit Wizard team from the Protectorate to manage this whole thing for her.”

“Dumbledore won’t like that,” Hermione said. “And will fight against it. He’s very invested in remaining in control of everything around him, but he also desperately wants Harry to return to Britain, so we can expect him to focus on that above anything else.”

* * * *

The reports from Britain were so sparse that the current Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, Kingston Pendleton, III, was staring pointedly at the parchment as he rocked a little in his chair. Harry couldn’t tell if the man was rocking because he was furious or because of the baby he was currently holding.

It wasn’t uncommon for the American leader of the ICW to be in the possession of one of his grandchildren. All of his own children were adults and half of the sixteen of them had come to Italy with him when he’d joined the ICW. Even after a decade in Rome, the man still sounded like he came out of a very small town in southern Texas.

The first time they’d met, the man had told Harry to call him King, and it had been startling. He still hadn’t done it, much to the older man’s amusement.

“This is dragonshit,” Kingston muttered and stood. He bounced the baby a little when she made a noise and kissed her curly hair. “My daughter-in-law is ill so I’m on babysitting duty since my son took himself off to Japan for a work trip.”

“Clearly the best job around here,” Harry said, and the man hummed his agreement.

“They want Potter back in the country,” Master Ito said. “They think they can create some circumstance to bind him to Britain.”

“Can they, Harry? Do you want to go home to Britain?” Kingston questioned.

“My home is Italy,” Harry said. “I didn’t spend all that time learning Italian just to go back to the miserable weather and wretched people of Britain. I can’t stand the thought of stepping foot in that country, but I’ll go because they have a problem brewing that they clearly can’t manage on their own. They’ve never managed the Tom Riddle problem, and there’s no need to pretend otherwise.”

Kingston nodded and focused on Armand Deering, the current High Warlock of the Magical Protectorate. “Are you lot drawing straws on who goes?”

Armand frowned and held out his hands. “Let me hold that baby.”

Kingston laughed and willingly gave over the baby. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“I don’t see why we should choose,” Master Ito said. “Let’s all go.”

“Fuck that,” Louis Bertrand, the Premier of the World Court of Magic, muttered. “I’m not going to Britain, Hiro.”

“Send me a few vicious-minded solicitors, and you can stay home,” Master Ito said, and Bertrand inclined his head like he agreed.

“I already have a team prepped,” Armand said. “And I agree with Hiro; we should all go. Britain needs to be given a life lesson about how to handle dark lords. There’s a reason why they rarely emerge in other countries. It’s too much work to stay in power.” He focused on Louis. “And you don’t want to sit this out, Louis. We’ll need you on the ground to oversee the legal issues and send cases directly to the court. I suspect that more than one member of the British ministry will be facing charges before this ends.”

Bertrand grimaced. “I have good people on the payroll.”

“If your desire to micromanage any given situation can be satisfied with that, then fine,” Armand said with a shrug.

“You son of a bitch,” Bertrand muttered and stood. “I’ll meet you in London in twelve hours. I’ll book the hotel because I can’t trust you arseholes to book somewhere nice. Some of you’d be content to camp out or sleep in a fucking shack!”

Harry shared a look with Master Ito and shrugged. He’d spent nearly all of October in a tent in Bulgaria.

“We have some nice tents,” Master Ito said defensively, and Harry nodded.

* * * *

“Is this weird for you?” Lucas questioned.

“Eh,” Harry said. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t feel unsafe if that is your concern.”

“Well, when it comes to a Sentinel, it’s always a concern. Unsafe for you could equal a feral episode, and we don’t want a repeat of Singapore.” Lucas paused. “Maybe we do. The results weren’t terrible.”

Harry laughed as he leaned on the only desk in the room. It was a small room and wouldn’t do for their needs, but it was where the two of them had been directed upon arrival. Master Ito was in a meeting with two people who hadn’t bothered to introduce themselves. Since both he and Lucas were hooded, he wasn’t surprised by the lack of reaction to his arrival. The hood magic of an ICW War Mage masked both the face and magical power.

The door opened, and Hermione entered the room. She glanced between them and darted forward with no seeming hesitation to hug him tightly. Harry caught her with a surprised huff. He inhaled against her hair, the first true sense imprint he’d ever gotten of his dearest friend.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I can find you in an invisibility cloak, Harry Potter,” Hermione said tartly and nudged him a little when he laughed. “Are you required to wear this thing?”

He pushed the hood back, and Lucas did the same. “No, we were just fucking with people.” She huffed. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m so irritated I can barely breathe,” she admitted.

“And four times more gorgeous than he reported,” Lucas said dryly, and they both focused on him.

She grinned and offered him her hand with flushed cheeks. “Hermione Granger.”

“Lucas Pierce.” He took her hand gently. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Harry took her back with a scowl toward his partner. “Don’t get her dirty with your American-ness.”

“It’s a problem,” Lucas admitted. “Otto said I came home smelling like New York, which he finds offensive. I’m still on probation as a result.”

Harry agreed, so he focused on Hermione rather than further demoralize his partner for coming home smelling like Muggle cigarettes and pollution. “Why are you irritated?”

“Dumbledore,” she said and rolled her eyes. “He’s in a strope assuming that you aren’t here and didn’t even bother to ask questions. He made the mistake of thinking he could lecture Armand Deering and just got completely cursed out. Then he dismissed me from the room since I wasn’t going to be useful at all today. Apparently, my only contribution will be to manage you.”

“Usually, it’s my job to manage him,” Lucas said, and Harry sent him a dirty look. “It is.”

Hermione nodded. “I bet it’s a full-time job, too.” She caught his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. “Why are you in here?”

“We were told to wait,” Lucas said in amusement. “It’s clear that the people here don’t know how such things work. When Master Ito travels, he never brings administrative staff or researchers into a potentially hostile situation first. The rest of the team is on standby and won’t be brought in unless absolutely necessary.” He focused on Harry. “Do you need to be shored up?”

“No, I’m good,” Harry said, and Hermione glanced between them in concern.

“Really?” Lucas questioned. “Because you’re not wearing gloves, and prolonged contact with someone’s skin causes your shoring magic to deteriorate rapidly. Now isn’t the time to try to tough it out, Harry.”

Harry considered it and touched on the shoring magic that he normally applied himself, but that Lucas had permission to monitor and top it off if needed in the field. Working without a Guide could be magically expensive. “Everything seems fine, but feel free to check.”

Lucas drew his wand, and Hermione pulled her hand from his with pale cheeks. He was sorry to see her upset.

“It’s fine, Mi. I promise.” He really never intended on talking about it because it would’ve led to uncomfortable questions. Hermione was too curious for his own good.

“You should’ve said!” she exclaimed.

Lucas checked the shoring spell and frowned as he put away his wand. “Oddly, he is fine. Please feel free to hold his hand all you want. Due to his manifestation as a Sentinel, he’s always very low on physical contact.”

The door opened before he could say anything, so he sent Lucas a dark look as he didn’t want Hermione to worry about him. Master Ito inclined his head and motioned them to follow. They were led down a narrow hall and into a large conference room where Dumbledore was lording over the room despite not being seated at the head of the table.

Harry took a seat after he tucked Hermione in between them. Lucas just inclined his head in agreement and slouched back in his chair like an insolent American, as that was his go-to response to dragonshite.

“Miss Granger, why didn’t you report that Mr. Potter was in the building?” Dumbledore demanded.

Hermione stared for a moment. “You told me to leave the room since I wasn’t going to be useful. I saw no reason to return and endure your unpleasant company a moment before required. Sentinel Potter is part of the ICW delegation so, of course, he’s traveling with High Warlock Ito. It was included in the detailed brief we received from High Warlock Deering of the Magical Protectorate. It’s no fault of mine you didn’t read it.”

“Well, I like this one,” Armand Deering said and sat down at the table. “Do they pay you well, young lady? I have money to burn and a budget that could be used to make all of your dreams come true.”

Hermione laughed, and Harry glared at the older man. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to disappear into the Protectorate.

“Voldemort was resurrected on October 31^st,” Minister Bones said. “Two so-called reformed Death Eaters kidnapped an individual named Rubeus Hagrid from Hogwarts. Mr. Hagrid was tortured and used in a ritual to create a humanoid construct to embody the wraith of Voldemort. We believe the construct is biologically sound, but it hasn’t been seen since the ritual.”

He turned to Hermione. “Hagrid?”

“He’s at Hogwarts and recovering,” Hermione said quickly and took his trembling hand. “A rescue operation was launched from Hogwarts, and several people died as a result of that. Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were all killed during the fight.”

“And Tom Riddle escaped.”

“Yes, the DMLE has been hunting for him, but I don’t know the details of that,” Hermione said.

Harry nodded. “What was the ritual used?” He focused on Minister Bones, who hesitated. “Ma’am?”

“Tom Riddle?” Minister Bones questioned. “Who is Tom Riddle?”

“Voldemort’s real name is Tom Riddle,” Harry said plainly. “But you should already know that…since Dumbledore has known that for certain since the end of my second year at Hogwarts.”

Minister Bones glared at Dumbledore briefly but then focused on Harry. “We have several problems, Sentinel Potter. We don’t know how Voldemort still exists and how stable his connection is to the ritual construct. There is a prophecy concerning you and Voldemort—the contents of which you can review at your leisure. We don’t know where he is or what he plans to do.”

“A prophecy?” Harry questioned and grimaced. “Divination is ambiguous at best and ridiculous at worst.”

“I agree,” Minister Bones said. “Unfortunately, Voldemort does believe in prophecy, and that’s the reason he tried to kill you as a child. It’s why he will continue to hunt you, as he believes that you alone can defeat him. As to the ritual, we’ve sealed the place where the ritual took place, and there hasn’t been an investigation per High Warlock Dumbledore’s advice.”

“Then that’s where I’d like to start, sir,” he said and focused on Master Ito. “Unless you disagree.”

“I don’t. We need to know exactly what he did, and we’ll need to interview the person used in the ritual as well,” Master Ito said.

“I don’t intend to release the seal,” Dumbledore interjected. “It would serve nothing to investigate such dark magic.”

Master Ito stood, and Harry released Hermione’s hand as he followed suit. Lucas smoothed down his waistcoat as he stood as well.

“Then we’re done here. Someone get on the fucking floo and tell Louis he can go back to Paris,” Master Ito said coolly.

“I’ll take care of it, sir,” Lucas said and started to leave.

“Wait!” Minister Bones said sharply. “Just wait. We need your help.”

“I will not tolerate obstruction,” Master Ito said. “And I’ve forgotten more magic than anyone in this room has bothered to learn. My people are thoroughly trained and educated to deal with dark magic in all forms. It’s their job. If you want us to take care of your little dark lord problem, Minister Bones, then I suggest you get your people in line.”

Minister Bones took a deep breath and nodded. “We’ll turn the entire investigation over to your team, High Warlock Ito, including the scene of the ritual resurrection. I’m grateful that you’ve come to Britain. It’s my duty to protect the citizens of my country from Voldemort and I can’t do that if I allow anyone to interfere in your mandate.”

“Then you’ll also lift the order put down by the previous minister regarding Tom Riddle and the former magical connection he had with Sentinel Potter?” Master Ito questioned.

“No, that matter is beyond your purview,” Dumbledore interjected. “Amelia, they don’t need such information. It is best forgotten.”

“Do you honestly fucking think that I didn’t recognize the goddamned horcrux I pulled out of a child?” Master Ito demanded, and Dumbledore reared back in shock. “I’m 4050 years old, Dumbledore, and horcrux magic is nothing new. Fifty-three different rituals exist all over the world that could’ve been used to create one. Knowing which ritual is imperative to killing Tom Riddle permanently, and that is my goal. His existence is a crime against magic, so declared by the World Court of Magic in a private hearing nine years ago. Your ignorance is appalling, Dumbledore. You’ve had twelve years to investigate this. I’ve seen enough of Potter’s memories to know the diary he destroyed when he was twelve was also a horcrux.”

“I’ll remove the edict as soon as I can,” Minister Bones said and held up a hand when Dumbledore started to protest. “Shut up, Albus. You’ve had decades to handle the problem of Voldemort, and all you’ve done is get good people killed. The ICW is now the authority on all matters related to Voldemort, without exception. If you have information to give the investigation, I insist that you do so immediately then return to your own job. It’s my understanding there is already a backlog in the Wizengamot’s docket.”

“I have nothing to share,” Dumbledore said stiffly as he stood. “Good luck.”

Harry watched him leave and turned to Hermione. “He’s a stone-cold liar.”

“Yes,” Hermione said in agreement. “But I don’t think he knows anything you can’t find out on your own. After all, he really has had decades to resolve this whole Riddle situation and didn’t bother to do it. He believes the prophecy will be fulfilled one way or another; thus, it isn’t his job to resolve the issue, though he would like to control as much of it as possible in order to seem relevant.”

He knew that Hermione was very bitter when it came to Dumbledore and that the man was never going to gain her favor again. It appeared he wasn’t interested in doing so. Harry wondered how that would’ve worked out if Hermione had been dedicated to the old bastard’s agenda. It seemed like Dumbledore preferred his fans over anyone else.

“Shacklebolt, make sure that Dumbledore removes the seal on the cemetery,” Minister Bones said. “Then turn the security of the scene over to High Warlock Ito.”

“Are you certain, Minister?” Shacklebolt questioned and cleared his throat. “Dumbledore has his reasons for wanting to keep the magic used in the ritual a secret.”

“Dumbledore’s reasons don’t matter,” Minister Bones said shortly. “Stopping Voldemort is what concerns me. Do your job, or I’ll do it for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shacklebolt said sharply. “Excuse me.”

Harry watched the man leave, then turned toward Hermione. “What’s the deal there?”

“Shacklebolt’s head is so far up Dumbledore’s arse he’d break his neck if that old git made a sharp turn,” Hermione retorted, and Master Ito snorted. “He’ll do his job reluctantly and is relatively honest, but he’ll tell Dumbledore every single thing he hears unless put under some kind of vow.”

“And Dumbledore’s goal?”

“As always, to control the narrative and direct every single one of us on some twisted sort of chess board where only he knows the rules, and he still expects everyone else to play because he knows best, and we’re fools for thinking otherwise. In the end, his version of the greater good trumps all.”

Harry grimaced as everyone else gaped at Hermione, then focused on his boss. “I’d like to go to Hogwarts and see Hagrid.”

“Will your past association with him be a help or hindrance?” Master Ito questioned.

“A help, I believe. I’ll take Hermione with me as he’s very fond of her,” Harry said. “I think this is the best use of my time at this point.”

Ito nodded. “I’ll go to the cemetery. Lucas, you’re with me. Armand?”

“I’ll go with you,” Armand said. “I want to see the ritual ground and review what is left of the evidence. Then, we need to arrange for a ritual space to be set aside for us by the Horde for cleansing rituals. I’m sure Ragnok is expecting it, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to invite him to review the scene as well. He’s very adept at ritual magic.”

“Chieftain Ragnok has refused to discuss the matter of Voldemort with the ministry,” Minister Bones said stiffly.

“Did he?” Master Ito questioned. “Or did he refuse to speak to Dumbledore?” The woman blinked in surprise. “Here’s hoping that you’ll discern the difference quickly enough, Minister Bones. Ragnok has no use for Dumbledore but would not ignore the duly elected leader of the British Ministry of Magic.” He paused. “Unless that leader was Dumbledore. They have a long and storied history. It is well-known, across the world, that the Horde does not trust Albus Dumbledore.”

* * * *

They apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts, and Harry took a deep breath as the gates swung open without a single hitch. He hadn’t been all that concerned about his welcome because he had regular correspondence with his former head of house. Head Mistress McGonagall had offered him a sanctuary of sorts during the fall out of his coming online and had even told him she would seek guardianship of him if he needed it. Harry hadn’t wanted to put her at risk, so he’d declined, but he did think fondly of her.

They stopped in the formal courtyard, and Harry inhaled sharply.

“Something wrong?”

“No.”

“Harry.”

He turned toward her and smiled. “It’s just good and awful at the same time to be back here. Hogwarts was very much like a home to me, but thanks to Dumbledore, it was taken from me. I should’ve been able to depend on him to protect me, Hermione, and yet in mere moments, he became as big of a threat as Tom Riddle ever had been.”

“Nothing was the same here after you left,” Hermione admitted as they started to walk again. “It only got worse when Barty Crouch, Jr was found in the school pretending to be a professor. It was really the final straw for a lot of people—a convicted Death Eater running around free in the school. Parents were all up in arms, and Dumbledore was ousted between one moment and the next.

“Plenty of people have never gotten over the fact that you fled the country because of Dumbledore’s bigotry against Sentinels and Guides. It ended Fudge’s career as well since he took his share of the blame. People were so invested in the Boy-Who-Lived that they ultimately punished anyone they could for your departure from Britain. But they still seem to see you as an icon rather than as a person.

“Of course, some resent you for leaving and not fighting for the rights of your kind.”

“Oh, I know,” Harry said. “No matter the fact that I was a minor and the people who had power over me were actively trying to destroy me. I don’t feel guilty for leaving or for staying away. Britain is nothing to me now, and I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you. Master Ito gave me a choice—I could be in Rome right now, and there is nothing anyone would’ve been able to do about it.” He took a deep breath. “Do you know the content of the prophecy?”

“I didn’t know a prophecy existed until an hour ago,” Hermione admitted. “But it’s a stupid subject, and I don’t believe in any of that crap. Dumbledore doesn’t trust me and has done everything he can to limit me at the ministry. It’s why I took an apprenticeship with Madam Forth. She can’t stand him, and he doesn’t argue with her.”

“I look forward to meeting her,” Harry said as they stopped at the front doors of the castle. “It’s lovely to be back here. But also, this school was the location of a lot of trauma for me.”

“I know.”

“It was a sweet dream that was stolen from me by degrees,” Harry said quietly, and her fingers clenched against his. “Don’t take Lucas’ worrying all that seriously, by the way. He acts as my Conservator despite the fact that he’s a mundane and worrying is his hobby. I use a series of spells to manage my senses, and I can do so indefinitely, which I’ve made clear. I won’t settle for just any compatible Guide. Though many have suggested that I do so. I want a genuine connection.”

“Well, that’s exactly what you deserve, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “Your Guide should be everything you need, and they should find all they need in you. I’m glad you’ve created a boundary on the subject. Do you get a lot of pressure from the Sentinel/Guide community?”

“No, but my position in the ICW under Master Ito helps. He’s an immense influence over the international community. He’s lived a very long time but only came online as a Sentinel a little over 100 years ago.”

Hermione nodded, and she looked toward the school. “She’s waiting.”

Harry turned and found that Minerva McGonagall was standing at the main entrance of the school. Hermione pulled him up the path to the school and straight into the embrace of their head of house.

“Look at you, a grown man already,” Minerva said gently as she hugged him. “I’ve been watching your career. You’ve done so well.”

“Thank you,” Harry said and took a deep breath against her hair before stepping back. “I’ve come to see Hagrid. Is he okay?”

“As well as he can be,” Minerva said. “He’ll be pleased to see you. Mostly, he feels guilty regarding the death of Remus, but we’re working on it. Nothing that happened was Hagrid’s fault, but he’s just not accepting it. It doesn’t help at all that the investigation has revealed precious little in regard to details.”

Harry just nodded and pulled his hood up as they entered the school. Classes were still in session, and he didn’t want to have any interactions with the students. His fame had never waned in Britain, and he knew that well enough based on how often his exploits were published in the British papers. They were always so excited to claim him when he did well, even if he was doing well as a Sentinel.

Hermione stopped holding his hand as they started up the central staircase past a group of students, and he ignored how much he hated that. Several students questioned his hood as they moved through school, and he could hear them speculating about an Unspeakable visiting the school, but that had been quashed from several quarters since he wasn’t wearing the right uniform.

Eventually, based on fleeting memories alone, he noted that a vehement conversation was taking place in the Great Hall about the arrival of a War Mage.

“A pair of Ravenclaws have figured out that I’m a War Mage,” Harry said.

“Names?” Minerva questioned.

“A girl named Jolie and a boy named Zephyr.”

“I’ll give them points the next time I see them,” Minerva said. “They’re only first years, too. What’s the general consensus?”

“Some of the older kids in Slytherin are pretty convinced that I’m an Unspeakable from a special department because I don’t have a visible badge, and they’ve recognized Hermione. So, at least they’re making some reasonable conclusions. The Hufflepuffs don’t care—no one in the whole house. Four Gryffindors are currently sneaking a bottle of firewhisky in through the northeast entrance. The rest of the house is stationed throughout the school, acting as lookouts so none of them even saw me.”

“Son of a bitch,” Minerva hissed. “Miss Granger, take him to the infirmary.”

She marched off, drawing her wand.

“Wow, you tattletale,” Hermione said in amusement.

“They don’t deserve to get away with it,” Harry retorted. “Their plan is idiotic.”

Hermione laughed and pulled him into the infirmary. He lowered his hood as she shut the doors behind them. Before they even reached the first set of dividers, Poppy Pomfrey appeared and put both hands on her hips.

“Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled. “Poppy, it’s so good to see you.” He hugged her even as she huffed dramatically and acted like it was a trial. “Is Hagrid awake?”

“Yes, of course, he’s in his fretting hour,” Poppy said as she hugged him back tightly. “We just finished breakfast. We’re still regrowing bones, so be prepared for that.”

“What…do you mean?” Harry questioned and glanced toward Hermione.

“It took a lot of brutal magic to subdue him, Harry,” Hermione said. “Hagrid is a half-giant.”

Harry nodded. When he’d been younger, he hadn’t really considered Hagrid’s size to be all that important. The magical world had been very different from the one he’d grown up in, and he had just assumed that people came in different sizes for magical reasons. Of course, mating with a giantess would be a magical reason enough.

“Do not ask the question forming in your brain, Harry Potter,” Hermione muttered, and Harry huffed a little even as Poppy shook her head at them then motioned them toward the back of the infirmary.

They walked to the back, near Poppy’s desk, and behind a privacy screen. Hagrid was in a bed clearly for him, and he wasn’t surprised that the mediwitch would have something for him in case of an injury.

“Harry!” Hagrid started to move around as if to get up.

“Ah, don’t you dare get up,” Poppy shouted.

“My legs are done growin’, Poppy!” Hagrid exclaimed but stayed where he was. “They’re gonna coddle me to death!”

“Says the man that just ate two breakfasts in bed!” Poppy retorted, and Hagrid huffed.

Harry took the hand Hagrid offered and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Had I known you were hurt, I would’ve come sooner.”

“I’m just fine,” Hagrid said and flushed when Hermione made a huffy little noise. “Look at your fancy uniform.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “It’s all lined with dragonhide.” He paused. “I made sure it’s all humanely harvested from naturally shedding skin.”

“Of course ya did,” Hagrid said happily. “You’re a good lad. How are your senses? You get that all settled?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said. “I have to use magic to manage them since I haven’t found a Guide, but that’s fine. I work with good people who take care with me on missions, and my boss is a Sentinel as well.” He unfastened the collar of his robe and shrugged out of it as he got comfortable on the bed with his very first magical friend. “How are you? Still dating Madame Maxine?”

Hagrid laughed. “Ah, well, it comes and goes. She’s been to see me a few times. Brought me a basket of treats.” He motioned to the large basket, sitting on a chair next to the bed. “How are you, Hermione? Make room for our favorite witch, Harry.”

Hermione picked up his robe and put it on the empty chair then joined them on the bed. “I’m good—I finished my mastery in magical theory, and I’m trying to figure out what I want to learn next.”

“Well, you always liked runes,” Hagrid pointed out. “And arithmancy.” He paused. “And transfiguration.”

Hermione blushed. “I’m spoiled for choice.” She scooted closer. “How do you feel?”

“Getting better,” Hagrid said. “Still taking potions to sleep.” He fidgeted with his blankets.

“Well, that’s fine,” Harry said. “You must do whatever you need to do. Sleep is important to your recovery. I’d love to say I’m here just to see you, Hagrid. But I need to ask you about what happened.”

“Course you do; it’s your job,” Hagrid said and patted him. “I’m real proud of you, Harry. You do important things. Severus kidnapped me. He told me he was sorry before he did it. He said he didn’t have a choice and hoped that I could understand one day. Then he told me to fight back and to not stop fighting.”

Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. “Did he say anything else before he died?”

Hagrid averted his gaze. “He took the Killing Curse for me. I don’t know why he did anything he did. It would help to know, Harry.”

“We’ll do our best to find out,” Harry assured. “But what did he say, Hagrid? He said more than sorry, right?”

“How do you know that?” Hagrid questioned and gently poked him. “Using your Sentinel stuff on me?”

Harry laughed. “No, but I can tell you’re keeping a secret. You aren’t very good at it, my friend.”

“Ah, well,” Hagrid said and exhaled slowly. “He said it was me or her. I didn’t understand at the time, but when I realized it was about old Tom…. I knew it was about you and that he meant Hermione.” He reached out and took Hermione’s trembling hand. “Better that it was me. There’s no telling what those dark bastards would’ve done to ya.”

Hermione’s breath hitched. “Hagrid.”

“Please, lass, it’s fine,” Hagrid said gently. “He made the best choice.”

“Were you awake during the ritual?” Harry questioned.

“Yes, I can give you a memory.” He paused. “Well, you can take it.” He waved toward his head. “It’s fine.”

“I can make a copy,” Harry said. “And we can bring in a mind healer to deal with your trauma.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not,” Hermione retorted.

“My brain is different than yours,” Hagrid said. “I take things differently.”

“Dragonshite,” Harry said plainly, and Hagrid huffed. “I’m not discounting the fact that you’re of mixed heritage, Hagrid. But there is no single way that means you aren’t deeply traumatized by what was done to you. No one sane could’ve come out of this fine. Stop trying to act like it doesn’t matter and that it doesn’t hurt. Tom Riddle has been betraying you since you were a child, and everyone around you let him get away with it. How many years did you go without a wand? Would you even have one now if Hermione hadn’t gotten you a solicitor and threatened to sue the ministry?”

Hagrid touched his wrist where a wand holster rested. “It was thanks to you, lass, that I survived. I’d have not made it if I didn’t have a proper wand.”

Hermione brushed tears from her cheeks, then just lurched forward and glomped onto Hagrid as she burst into tears. Harry hesitated before letting one gloved hand rest on her back as Hagrid hesitantly patted her. Nothing about Hagrid’s demeanor changed, so he didn’t think her very slight weight was hurting him, but he had to ask.

“How were you injured?”

“Oh!” Hermione sat up. “Gods, Hagrid, did I hurt you?” She started patting him.

“I’m fine,” Hagrid said fondly and caught her small hand in one of his. “Don’t fret. They broke both of my legs, and we had to get a special version of Skele-gro for me, but Poppy has me set to rights. It’s just taking a long time to complete. She said the basic structure is there, and the bones are filling properly.” He lifted one leg slightly. “I can even move them now.”

“Put that leg down!” Poppy shouted from beyond the screen and Hagrid huffed but did as instructed.

“She’s real bossy,” Hagrid muttered.

Harry frowned. “Hagrid, it’s been several weeks since the ritual. Why are you now just getting the bones regrown?”

Poppy came around the partition then. “I had to get the Skele-gro from Denmark. We did some fracture repair, and I had to do extensive organ regeneration. Then, because the ministry is full of twats trying to keep secrets, I had to travel to Denmark personally to commission the damn Skele-gro which took a whole bloody week to brew because it had to be tailored to him specifically.” She glared at him. “Which is why he needs to stop moving around!”

“Yes, Poppy,” Hagrid muttered, and she left.

Harry turned to Hermione. “I can not believe Madam Pomfrey just said the word twat in front of us.”

She grinned. “The perils of adulthood appear to have no end.”

* * * *

Hermione had read about but had never seen a projection pensieve, so when Harry pulled one out of the ICW’s supply trunk, she’d nearly bounced a little at the sight. Thankfully, she’d refrained and kept her questions to herself as he set it up. They were only alone briefly in the room before Master Ito entered with a bunch of people she hadn’t gotten a chance to meet.

Harry looked up from his work. “Hermione, this is Olivia Landy; she’s the healer for our team and has been with the ICW since she left the Academy of Magic in New York. Otto Bauer, he’s a potions master but also has a mastery in warding, also with the ICW. High Warlock Armand Deering of the Magical Protectorate and his second in command, Roman Banner, who is from Britain. Finally, last but not least—Premier Louis Betrand of the World Court of Magic. Everyone, this is Hermione Granger. She’s a researcher here at the DOM and the sole reason I managed to survive as long as I did at Hogwarts.”

Hermione shot him a look then shrugged. “I mostly kept you out of detention.”

“An immense feat considering his penchant for getting into trouble,” Olivia Landy said cheerfully and offered Hermione her hand. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

Hermione took her hand and immediately wondered if Harry had any sort of relationship with the woman as she was very attractive. The thought made her uncomfortable and she felt silly for that. “It’s a pleasure. I read your mastery thesis last year.”

“Did you?” Olivia smiled. “What did you think?”

“It was very well done. I had a ton of questions and nearly drove my friend at St. Mungo’s crazy asking them,” Hermione admitted. “Since I took my own mastery in magical theory, and I’ve been exploring spell craft as a sideline for years, so the section medical innovation was amazing.”

“We’ve lost them,” Harry said wryly, and they both focused on him. “You two can bond over being brilliant later, right?”

“Sure,” Olivia said and grinned when Hermione laughed. “Get this nightmare on the road, Potter.”

Hermione relaxed at that because she had a feeling that no woman intimately involved with Harry could call him by his last name in such a casual way that spoke to frequent use.

“We retrieved a memory of the ritual from Rubeus Hagrid and did get some information from him regarding the kidnapping itself. Prior to the violence, Severus Snape apologized to Hagrid and said he had to make a choice between him and her. He never said a name. Hagrid has come to believe that he meant Hermione and that Snape was made to choose between the two of them for the ritual because of me.” Harry cleared his throat. “I’m unsure of how well this is known, but I’ve maintained contact with just three people in Britain—Hermione Granger, Rubeus Hagrid, and Minerva McGonagall.”

Hermione took a deep breath when everyone else in the room focused on her. She dropped her locket, which she’d been playing with, and grimaced. “It’s honestly very well known. I was threatened with a lawsuit five years ago because I refused to act as a go-between. I hired a solicitor, whose second mastery was in bastardry, and the threats disappeared.” She paused at the grins that earned her. “He migrated here from Australia.”

“Smart lass,” Premier Bertrand said warmly.

“He was a referral from the bank,” Hermione said in amusement. “My account manager was certain he was the best choice unless the matter went international. Regardless, it’s well-known that the three of us are the only ones in Britain that get past Harry’s mail ward. That being said, absolutely no one is going to try to bully Minerva McGonagall into doing anything as she’s been known to just flick people right out of her way and have them land a kilometer away.”

Harry was frowning at her. “Who threatened to sue you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Who do you think, Harry James?”

“Dumbledore.”

“You sweet summer child,” Hermione said, and Master Ito laughed a little. “He’d have just tried to potion or curse me into compliance. It was that silly little chit, Ginny Weasley.” She focused on the pensieve. “So, are we going to watch the nightmare fuel or discuss all the witches in this country who want to trap you into an unwanted marriage?”

“You say that like it wasn’t also nightmare fuel,” Harry muttered and focused on the pensieve as his partner laughed. “You’ve never been in a projection pensieve, right?”

“Right,” Hermione said. “I’ve read about them, of course. So, I know how they work. I expect some mild disorientation at first, but I’ll be fine.”

“With no disrespect meant, why is Miss Granger being included?” Roman Banner questioned.

“Officially, I’m the liaison for the British Ministry of Magic,” Hermione said dryly. “But mostly, it’s pandering as my government is thoroughly prepared to whore me out to my oldest friend to keep his goodwill.”

“Wow,” Olivia said.

Harry wondered how many of the old, very powerful wizards in the room were preparing to offer his best friend a job. He focused on Hermione then offered her his hand. “It’ll be easier if you’re magically included in the pensieve with me as the activator of the device.”

Hermione took his hand and nodded. “Get on with it.”

Harry activated the pensieve by brushing his fingers across a series of runes on the rim of the device, and the memory spilled out around them. He pulled Hermione a little closer out of instinct as they were fucking surrounded by Death Eaters. He paused the memory with a gesture of his hand, and everyone started to work.

“There is a potion in the cauldron,” Otto reported. “I hope there will be enough left at the scene to analyze. Snape was a master, right?”

“A very talented one,” Hermione said. “He wrote several books on the subject throughout his life. Though not under his own name. He published internationally under the name Samuel Evans.”

Harry found that extremely appalling and sent Hermione a look. She shrugged.

“I’ve read all of his work,” Otto admitted. “He was brilliant.” He sighed. “And dark as fuck. Now I feel dirty.”

“That’s not what makes you dirty,” Lucas muttered, and Harry shook his head at his partner.

He walked over to where Hagrid was tied down. The ropes were real instead of conjured. They’d been prepared to receive Hagrid at the ritual grounds, and Harry shouldn’t have been so surprised by the planning. Most of the Death Eaters were hooded, which didn’t surprise Harry as dark wizards were largely cowards, and hiding behind a hood merely served their best interests and their bottom line.

“Let’s watch it,” Lucas said quietly.

Harry restarted the memory.

Lucius Malfoy withdrew an athame and sliced Hagrid’s arm from shoulder to wrist. “Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.”

The blood was added to the cauldron.

“Regeneration?” Otto questioned. “Could it be that fucking easy?”

Harry hoped so. “Death Eaters aren’t exactly brilliant on the whole.”

“Snape would’ve known better.”

“He clearly wasn’t fully participating of his own free will,” Harry said begrudgingly. “Perhaps he hoped this would become known. It might not be as easy to circumvent as we hope, considering Hagrid’s genetics. The fact that he needed a genuine enemy is also telling.”

“How is Miss Granger a genuine enemy?” Premier Bertrand questioned.

Hermione made a face, and Harry shrugged. “You might as well own up to it.”

“I made it my business to thwart Voldemort and his return to the living every single chance I’ve had since I was twelve years old,” Hermione admitted, and several people turned to stare at her in shock even as Voldemort literally rose out of the cauldron. She huffed. “Gods, he’s such a monster. Look at him.”

“His true form,” Master Ito said. “It’s telling.”

“Very,” Master Deering said. “Tell us how you thwarted him.”

“In first year, I helped Harry keep the Philosopher’s Stone out of his hands and interrupted his attempt to kill Harry in the final confrontation. I bludgered him right out of the body of the professor he was possessing, and Harry destroyed the stone while I was doing that.

“In second year, with the diary, I figured out what was happening and warned Harry about the basilisk. When Harry told me that Voldemort’s real name was Tom Riddle, I looked him up and started….” She trailed off. “Casting curses on his maternal line. It did little more than make his life difficult, but I saw no reason why he shouldn’t suffer as much as possible for his bad behavior.”

“Are you still cursing his maternal line?” Olivia questioned.

“Every chance I get,” Hermione admitted. “Shortly after his resurrection, I set down a magical judgment curse with the goal of permanent infertility. I don’t want that dumb bastard breeding. Magic agreed.”

“Is any of that illegal?” Olivia glanced around.

Premier Bertrand was clearly considering it.

“Some of it would be if Tom Riddle was magically or even legally alive,” Hermione said. “But he’s not. He’s been dead since October 31, 1981, and so has the creature known as Voldemort. You can’t be prosecuted for cursing the dead. No matter what you curse them with. Not even grave robbing is illegal in Britain.” She glanced around. “I wish I’d known about this cemetery. I’d have made sure he had no bones of his ancestors to work with.”

“You are an absolute delight,” Roman Banner said. “Come work for us.”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. Harry had paused the memory again because no one was really paying attention to it. He focused on Voldemort’s face, taking in the snake-like appearance. It spoke of beast-speaking rituals in his past, which was probably how he was able to speak to the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

Merlin knew the bastard didn’t have the purity of craft to actually be a parselmouth. He didn’t look forward to going to the cemetery to investigate the actual ritual site but knew there was really no choice in the matter. They needed to know more about the horcrux situation and figure out which ritual Riddle had used to create the ones he’d already made and to make sure he was limited in the future regarding the creation of more.

“If this is a regeneration potion, then we can destroy the construct easily enough,” Lucas said. “He’s not going to be stable, and his magical power is going to start to fluctuate. There’s no telling what the giant blood did, as well. Why would Riddle risk that?”

“Snape didn’t tell him it would be a risk,” Harry speculated. “Maybe he even told him that the blood itself didn’t matter and that it was about the magical circumstances regarding the manifestation of a genuine enemy. Honestly, Riddle probably has many enemies that he could’ve used, but he wanted to take a shot at me.” He frowned as he focused on Hagrid’s still form in the memory. “So, he did.”

“The question becomes why,” Master Ito said. “Let’s finish this and review the prophecy.”

Harry nodded and restarted the memory. It grew hectic quickly, and the violence, while immense, wasn’t shocking. Hermione had watched the whole thing with dark, sad eyes and only averted her gaze once when Remus Lupin was hit with a Killing Curse from Lucius Malfoy’s wand.

They came out of the memory abruptly, which was just as well because the carnage had been a lot. He made copies of the memory then passed those copies to Master Deering and Premier Bertrand before giving the original to his own boss. All three men stored the memories as Harry turned to Hermione.

“The prophecy?”

“Let me go speak with Madam Forth,” Hermione said. “And we’ll get access to the Hall of Prophecy. It’s been locked down since the resurrection, but no one would discuss why. It was believed, of course, to be a response to Voldemort’s return. Minister Bones locked down most of the ministry, put a freeze on hiring, and started an internal audit to look for sympathizers.”

“It was a very good course of action on her part,” Master Ito said. “And right out of our official guidelines when it comes to responding to internal threats.”

Hermione hesitated only briefly before releasing Harry’s hand. She’d always liked being close to him and hated to let go. The years of separation had been the best choice for her heart, and she was glad he’d never questioned it. But she’d missed him like a limb. She left the group of them in the large conference room that had been set aside for their use and returned to the office she shared with Esmeralda Forth.

The current Croaker, a son of a bitch named Tobias Savage, was leaning on her mentor’s desk when she entered. Hermione paused and took a deep breath. One reason she’d extended her mentorship as long as she had was to give herself some breathing room on job offers within the ministry. Savage had been trying to get her to move into his department for years. It would never happen as long as he was in charge.

“Ah, Granger, back from babysitting the ICW?”

“They’re all very accomplished professionals with successful careers that have been documented on an international level,” Hermione said evenly. “They hardly need babysitting, Director Savage.” She focused on Esmeralda. “But they need access to the Hall of Prophecy. Minister Bones has given over the entire investigation regarding Voldemort to Master Ito from the War Mages division. We’re required to give them our full cooperation. Dumbledore was made to unseal the ritual site.”

“That’s good,” Savage said and left his perch on the desk. “It keeps our people out of harm’s way, which is good since none of them are trained for that kind of conflict. Since you’re favored by Potter, Granger, you can handle all of that until they’re done. Give him whatever he wants. Dumbledore has plans for Potter, so watch out for that, and don’t let that old bastard interfere in ICW business.”

Hermione stared in surprise. “Of course, sir.” She watched him leave and turned to Esmeralda. “Did that just happen?”

Esmeralda stood and pulled out a set of keys. “Yes. He brought me the keys. I’ve not kept the keys since he was promoted.” She made a face. “That bastard even apologized to me. Who knows what his agenda is, but be assured that he hates Dumbledore and lives to make his life miserable. He also probably doesn’t want anything to do with Death Eaters or the conflict itself. Ultimately, he’s lazy and dumb. He also knows he’s dumb, which is a very rare state of being.”

Hermione laughed. “True.”

“Most ignorant people are too dumb to even realize who stupid they are,” Esmeralda continued as they left the office. “Which is a shame because it makes everything more difficult for the rest of us. And killing them is frowned upon, which is fine. Shooting fish in a barrel is just bad form anyway.”

Hermione figured there could be a case made for shooting fish in a barrel and decided to save it for when her mentor needed some amusement. The older woman adored a well-reasoned murder plot, especially if it could be justified. Though, Hermione could acknowledge that justification could be quite thin when it came to Esmeralda Forth. She figured it was a product of age as she’d rarely met a magical person over a hundred who wasn’t a bit of a homicidal nutter.

They entered the conference room, and Hermione cleared her throat before quickly introducing Madam Forth to everyone. The people from the ICW were clearly startled when Harry stepped forward and offered his hand to Esmeralda. Hermione was relieved when her mentor took it without hesitation.

“It’s an honor, Madam Forth. Hermione speaks very highly of you. I wanted to thank you for all the care you’ve taken with her over the years. I understand how the blood politics in the ministry have made that difficult for you.”

“I’m not above drop-kicking a blood purist out into the fucking ocean, lad,” Esmeralda said, and Harry smiled at her. “Merlin’s pants, you’re a pretty bastard. You must catch hell keeping people off your lap.”

“It’s best not to sit at all in some situations,” Harry admitted, and Esmeralda laughed.

She patted his bearded cheek and let him go. “Well, tell me why you want to enter into the Hall of Prophecy. I need it for official reasons.”

“I have a prophecy record concerning myself and the individual known as Voldemort,” Harry said, and she nodded.

“You don’t take that shite seriously, right?” she questioned.

“I don’t, but Voldemort clearly does. He’s been trying to kill me since I was an infant because of it,” Harry said quietly, and Hermione winced. “It’s why he killed my whole family, Madam Forth.”

“Let’s get started,” Esmeralda said and took the arm Harry offered her. Hermione just shook her head at them. “The Hall of Prophecy has an entrance not far from here. It’s a large room full of old and new prophecy orbs that are generated automatically by ancient magic. The same ancient magic that creates and protects many of the rooms in the Department of Mysteries. It’s the oldest part of the ministry and has survived several different kinds of governments since the founding of Avalon under the hand of King Arthur. Some say that Merlin himself created the DOM. I don’t know if I buy that.”

“Why not?” Harry asked curiously as they walked.

The others were trailing along behind the two of them in a way that amused Hermione. Esmeralda had that way about her, and she was pleased that Harry was taking such care with her mentor.

“Ah, well, it’s clearly layered magic and despite the mythology around him, Merlin didn’t live any longer than an average wizard for the time. There were many practitioners of ancient magic at the time, and it didn’t start to fade until the late 1700s. It’s clear that, like Hogwarts, the DOM was built over several generations. It stands, really, as a testament to the work of those long gone. Not a single person working in this building today is capable of this kind of magic.” She paused. “Unfortunately.”

“I’ve been considering a research project on ancient magic,” Hermione admitted. “But I doubt I’d get far here in Britain. Dumbledore interferes too much, even in personal research projects. It’s like he can’t stand for anyone to know something he doesn’t.”

“Handy information to have,” Master Deering said, and she glanced toward the man as he moved to walk beside her. “Anything else we need to know about him?”

“He’s manipulative, of course, but not necessarily power-hungry. He has a pathological need to control practically everything around him and gets furious when anything doesn’t go according to his plan. Dumbledore is oddly permissive and a big believer in redemption when it comes to genuinely dark wizards.”

“That’s probably about Grindelwald,” Premier Bertrand interjected. “Dumbledore is never going to get over the fact that the love of his life is a dark wizard.”

“The fuck you say,” Esmeralda said and turned around to stare at them. Everyone stopped walking. “Grindelwald let Albus Dumbledore hit it? Merlin, I thought that little prick had better taste than that.”

Harry laughed, but the others quickly followed suit then gently urged her to keep walking. “You can’t account for taste.”

“Certainly,” Esmeralda muttered and pulled out her keys as they approached a pair of doors. “Does anyone need a lecture on not touching prophecy records that don’t belong to them?”

“No, Madam, I never allow idiots to spend that much time in my presence and survive it,” Master Deering said, and she smiled at him before unlocking the doors and pushing them open.

Hermione went to the podium and opened the book when her mentor motioned toward it.

“The other entrance is through the time room, on the other side of the room itself. It’s heavily warded as it is outside of the DOM. This entrance only requires a key, which I consider a problem,” Esmeralda said. “The audit of the ministry isn’t complete.”

Hermione turned to the proper page and found one listing under Harry’s name. “Row ninety-seven. The Dark Lord and Harry Potter, given by Sybill Trelawney and witnessed in full by Albus Dumbledore. Partial witness, Severus Snape.”

“Well, at least we know how Voldemort knew the prophecy existed,” Harry said with a grimace. “Can I summon it?”

“Not without permission from the current Director of the DOM. The wards are designed to keep the prophecies safe but also to ensure dumb people don’t drive themselves crazy touching something they shouldn’t,” Hermione said.

“We’ll stay here,” Master Ito said.

Harry looked out over the shelves then offered Hermione his hand. “Walk with me?”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said.

He laced their fingers together as left everyone else behind. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“A prophecy can be deeply empowered by personal belief, Harry. Tom Riddle is clearly invested in the prophecy, and that is something to worry about,” she murmured.

“I can handle it,” Harry said. “His construct is deeply vulnerable due to the magic he used to resurrect himself. Horcruxes are troubling and ugly, but they can be destroyed. It’s not easy, but I’ve already done it once.”

They found the row and started looking.

“I’ve heard, but obviously have never felt, that a prophecy can call out to the person it belongs to,” Hermione said.

“I feel a slight pull,” Harry admitted. “It’s not overwhelming, though.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you as well,” Hermione said. “Nothing was the same after you left.”

“And yet you’ve declined all of my invitations to come to Rome,” Harry said. “You were too busy to meet me in Paris as well.”

Hermione flushed. “I thought…well. I’m surprised you’re bringing this up, Harry. I don’t have an excuse to offer that will make any sense.”

“Nonsense would be preferred over nothing,” Harry said quietly and gave her hand a little squeeze. “You can say anything to me, Hermione.”

He stopped suddenly and focused entirely on her.

“One day you’ll find your Guide, Harry,” Hermione said helplessly, and tears welled in her eyes. “What will my place in your life be then?”

He stared at her for a moment, clearly shocked. “Mi, you’ll always be my very best friend. I never want to know a day when you aren’t my friend. A bond with a Guide won’t change that for me.”

“You can’t say how a bond with a Guide will change things,” Hermione said gently. “We can’t know. And I guess I wanted to mitigate how much it would hurt when you slowly faded completely from my life in favor of your Guide.”

Harry pulled her close, and she accepted the hug. He took a deep breath against her hair. “It’ll never happen.”

Hermione wanted to believe it, but it was hard. “My mother came online as a Guide when I was five years old. She promised me and my father that she’d never let it hurt our family. Two years later, she met her Sentinel, and just days after that, she was gone. I’ve not seen her since, Harry. I reached out a few years ago and she told me it was best if I didn’t ever call her again. She said that her Sentinel didn’t want her to have any contact with her former family. She said I was an unnecessary distraction.”

“Your mother is a Guide?” Harry questioned. “You never said.”

“Well, I learned quickly enough in magical Britain that it was frowned upon,” Hermione said as they separated. “And I don’t have the genetics. I take after my father in that respect.”

“Are you sure?” Harry questioned.

“My father had me tested, Harry,” Hermione said. “I’m mundane.” She focused on the shelf in front of them and inclined her head. “It has your name on it.”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “I have no desire whatsoever to pick that thing up.”

“Yes, well, you’re a Gryffindor.” She motioned toward it, and he laughed a little.

He picked it up and it disappeared with a flash as he stored it.

“You don’t want to review it in private first?” Hermione questioned.

“No, I might need Master Ito,” Harry admitted, and his cheeks flushed. “He’s my mentor in more than one way, Hermione, and his guidance as a Sentinel is second to none.”

“I wonder how that went for him—coming online as a Sentinel after living for thousands of years.”

“He told me once that he considered it a gift because it led him to his Guide—to a partner that would willingly stay with him as long as he wished to live. They both drink from the bloodstone now. His Guide, Castius, is in Paris currently but will certainly join us here in Britain before the week is out. They’re rarely apart for long.”

“It sounds lovely,” Hermione murmured.

“Yes,” Harry agreed and caught her hand in his. “I meant it, you know. The person meant to be my Guide would never want me to forsake our friendship out of jealousy. I just can’t imagine how I’d ever be a match with someone so selfish and cruel.”

“It says a lot about my mother that she did bond with such a person,” Hermione murmured. “One so focused on their own needs to the detriment of their Guide’s own child and more so that she had no problem leaving me behind. I can’t say I’ll ever forgive her for it so here’s hoping that her Sentinel provides her with all that she needs for the rest of her life.”

* * * *

Harry put the prophecy orb down in the box he’d been provided, and they all stared at it. He didn’t want to activate it at all and not because he feared it. They were waiting for the arrival of the minister and Dumbledore. He didn’t know if the minister already knew the contents of the prophecy but assumed that Dumbledore had shared some version of it with her.

“Have you looked at it already, Mr. Potter?”

Harry focused on Dumbledore, who was standing in the entryway of the conference room. “No.”

“Then we should view it in private together.”

“You can’t legally be alone with me in the same room,” Harry reminded, and Dumbledore stared in shock.

“You’re an adult now.”

“That restraining order is permanent and has nothing to do with my age, Mr. Dumbledore. You are strictly forbidden from seeking my private company for the rest of your life,” Harry said. “And there’s nothing you could say to me in private that I wouldn’t immediately report to Master Ito as a matter of course.”

“You’ve sacrificed all of your privacy, then?”

Harry stared for a moment. “Privacy is often an illusion in the magical world, Mr. Dumbledore, as you well know. You have to use a great deal of magic to have some small measure of guaranteed privacy. Also, please don’t ever pretend to care about my circumstances again. You’re only interested in how you can use me on any given day.”

He pulled his wand and tapped the prophecy orb to activate it. Harry watched Sybill dispassionately as the prophecy was revealed.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

Harry made a face. “How many people in Britain defied that arsehole three times before he got himself disembodied in 1981? How many children were born in July leading up to his disembodiment? How many were born after his disembodiment? This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He turned to Dumbledore. “How much did Snape tell Tom Riddle?”

Dumbledore stared for a moment, clearly startled. “Just the first two lines. He was discovered before he heard the whole thing. How did you know….”

“The damn log book reported that he’d witnessed part of it,” Harry snapped. “And, of course, Snape ran off and told his Dark Lord. He was a loyal Death Eater at the time, right?”

“Yes, but when he discovered your mother was the target, he came to me immediately and explained what had happened. It’s why your parents went into hiding. Severus loved your mother very much.”

Harry glared at him. “Do not ever say such a disgusting thing to me again. Love her? He was a Death Eater. He took a knee for Tom Riddle, Dumbledore. He took the Dark Mark, which can only bestowed on the willing. No man who truly loved a Muggle-born woman could do such a thing. Snape never knew what love was, and the only good thing he did in his life was die. Now, I don’t have to hunt him down and kill him myself.”

Dumbledore stared at him in shock. “You’ve become quite mercenary, Mr. Potter. I’d hoped for better. You were once a very promising and light wizard.”

“I still am a light wizard,” Harry said evenly, and he stood. “I do have a question, Dumbledore. It’s simple enough that even you should be able to answer it without trying to manipulate the shite out of everyone.” He paused when the older man’s mouth dropped open. “Did it ever cross your mind that my being a Sentinel was the power that Voldemort knew not?”

“I can’t see how such a thing would be,” Dumbledore admitted. “It is my belief that this world does not need your kind under any circumstances. Your situation is unnatural and obscene.”

“Obscene?” Harry repeated and shook his head. “You’re a very old man, and you make me tired.”

 

Part 2

“I’ve not changed much since you deeded it to me,” Hermione said as they entered the cottage. “I don’t allow floo travel as a security measure.”

“I wouldn’t know what you’ve changed,” Harry admitted. “This was my mother’s bridal house. I didn’t know I owned it until long after I’d left Britain. It had a good security package, and I felt that it would provide you with a safe home. Plus, I never intend to live in Britain again. I sold the rest of the land my parents owned. Though Dumbledore did try to prevent that. He spent months interfering and attempting to lock down my accounts. When I could, I sold everything and moved my vault to Rome permanently.”

“Oh, I should’ve realized….” Hermione shed her cloak and put it away. “We can eat in the living room unless you’d rather eat at the table.”

“The living room is fine,” Harry said. “I’d rather be comfortable.” He carried the takeaway bag to the living room, and they settled on the floor to eat at the coffee table. “It’s been an age since I’ve had cottage pie. Well, I tried to make it myself a few months back and made a mess of it. I really need to invest more time in feeding myself properly. Normally, I just go by a house elf enclave and pay for a few weeks of meals at a time. I just take what they give me. They’d be really surprised if I produced a list.”

“Definitely make a list,” Hermione suggested. “They’d probably be thrilled.”

“You had a date last week. How did that go?” Harry questioned.

“Oh,” Hermione said with a flush. “I wasn’t actually on a date. Minister Bones had me doing research for her, so I left that message on my floo for incoming calls so that no one would suspect what I was really doing.”

Harry was relieved and felt like an arsehole for it. “Are you dating anyone?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard.”

“Why? You’re a brilliant and beautiful witch,” Harry said.

Hermione made a face. “I make my own money, and some wizards find that off-putting. I certainly wouldn’t quit my job to stay home with children, and that is well-known. British wizards are very stodgy, Harry, and live in the dark ages. Plus, there’s you.”

“What about me?”

“Neville told me that the wizards that wouldn’t care about my job are petrified of you,” Hermione said and shrugged. “Or at least, petrified of what you would do if you didn’t agree with how I was treated.”

“Well, any wizard should be afraid of mistreating you,” Harry said mildly and took a sip of his butterbeer. “First, because you’re powerful and talented. Second, because I would certainly come here and take care of whatever you left behind.”

Hermione offered him a grin. “Thanks. Regardless, my dates are few and far between, but I don’t mind so much.”

“Why not?” Harry questioned.

She shrugged again, and he sighed. “Don’t have a fit, Harry. I’ll get there eventually. I’m just not in any hurry to shackle myself to some random wizard. I have time and options.”

Hermione did have options, Harry knew that, even if she did disdain them currently and it was kind of awful to think about some stranger that he’d never met getting close to her and putting his hands on her. Since jealousy would be both inappropriate and toxic, he tried to keep his opinion to himself.

“I have a guest room,” Hermione said.

“I have a briefing to attend, and Master Ito will expect me to be in my room exactly where I should be at the end of the day. He thrives on protocol, and I suppose I do as well,” Harry admitted. “It’s comforting to know where everyone is and what they were doing.”

“Do they know where you are right now? The cottage is unplottable.”

“I told Master Ito where I was going, and he has a rough geographical location. He could use that information to find me if needed,” Harry admitted. “He’s a very talented Sentinel.” He paused. “And you can trust him, Mi. Should you ever need help and I’m not available.”

“And why would you be unavailable to me?” Hermione asked in a teasing voice and pushed her socked foot against his leg.

“I could be undercover or sleeping in a tent in Tibet contemplating my navel because I pissed him off,” Harry said in amusement. “There’s a War Mage currently there right now guarding an old tomb. He has another six weeks before anyone is allowed to trade out with him. Normally, we only have to do it one week out of the year.”

“Have you done it?”

“Yeah, of course, six times so far. I consider it a vacation,” Harry admitted. “Lucas hates it, so listening to him bitch and moan about it is both irritating and amusing, depending on the day.” He paused. “And the time because he loves to complain in the hour before dawn.”

“It must be wretched,” Hermione said with an amused laugh.

“I can see how much you sympathize with me,” Harry said dryly, and she laughed some more.

It was lovely to watch her laugh so he just settled into to eat his food.

* * * *

“If I were a straight man, I’d be shopping for rings,” Lucas said mildly, and Master Ito grunted his agreement.

Harry wanted to ignore his partner outright but every man in the room was staring at him. “I’m a Sentinel.”

“Hard to forget,” Louis Bertrand said. “I’m still dealing with the legal consequences of your departure from Britain. It required changes in international law to protect the rights of minor Sentinels and Guides in ways we didn’t think were necessary until they were. As I’ve aged, I’ve come to believe that legislating the morals of others is the basic foundation of law and order when I once thought it was justice.”

“Well, I’d apologize, but those laws should’ve already existed,” Harry responded, and Louis nodded his agreement. “As to Hermione Granger, she is lovely inside and out. Any wizard would be extremely lucky to have her. But she’s mundane, and everyone at this table knows a Guide would come before a wife for me. I’d never allow anyone, much less myself, to do such a thing to Hermione.”

“It’s a difficult position for certain,” Master Ito said. “And I understand, of course, I was involved with another person when I came online. I never expected such a thing to happen to me after living for thousands of years. I’ve watched the world change, watched the way Sentinels and Guides have come and gone from one society or another. There have been many times when they practically disappeared. It seems different this time—the resurgence of Sentinels and Guides. There is a broader purpose.”

“I feel concerned about the world at large,” Harry admitted, and Master Ito nodded his agreement. “Can we discuss the reason we’re here?”

“I’ve studied the content of the prophecy,” Master Ito said. “And it’s ambiguous. The unfortunate part of this situation is that Tom Riddle is very invested in the content of the prophecy, evidenced by the fact that he hunted your parents and tried to murder you as an infant.”

Harry nodded. “He’ll continue to consider me a threat, and he should. Given an opportunity, I would kill him. I don’t believe it’s possible to contain him in a prison.”

“No, agreed,” Roman Banner said, and Harry focused on the older man. “His magical circumstances make such a thing an impossibility, and we need to neutralize the horcruxes. I’ve been in contact with Chieftain Ragnok regarding that situation, and he believes if we can get our hands on one, we might be able to use it to find or destroy the others in ritual.”

“That’s on the agenda then,” Master Ito said. “If we can have the Horde help with the horcrux situation, that will leave us free to focus on the resurrection and the construct he’s currently inhabiting. The ritual itself is a weakness that I don’t think Riddle is aware of. It’ll make killing him permanently relatively easy once we get our hands on him.”

“Revoking the blood in ritual could be easier said than done,” Armand Deering said. “Especially considering the mixed heritage of Rubeus Hagrid. His giant blood has probably made the construct unstable, as breeding with a giantess is a special endeavor.”

Harry leaned forward a bit. “I…. Never mind.”

Banner laughed. “A bit of husbandry is required for such things. No Human, magical or not, could successfully impregnate a giantess physically. Though I have no idea why such a thing was done.”

“Hagrid doesn’t remember his mother fondly,” Harry explained. “She abandoned him because he was too small. She also, apparently, did not like her second child for the same reason. Hermione met the brother, which I find horrifying. She reported that he was very gentle with her. She said he was small for a full-blood giant.”

“If we can use the circumstances against Riddle when it comes to the resurrection, we should,” Master Ito said. “Lucas, that will be your focus on the research front. Harry, you’ll be in charge of investigating the ritual scene. Armand, if you’ll assist with that?”

Armand nodded. “Of course.” He leaned forward. “Let’s take the delightful Miss Granger with us, Potter.”

Harry stared at him pointedly. “You’re married.”

Armand laughed. “Just because I have a lovely wife doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate an enchanting young woman, Potter.” He pulled a cigar out of his dimensional storage, and it lit in his hand. “But I’ve not asked for her inclusion because she’s a beauty. She has local knowledge none of us have, has educated herself thoroughly, and will add to the investigation.”

Harry couldn’t argue against Hermione’s potential value to the operation. “She’s not trained for fieldwork. I’d prefer that she only do investigative work with me.”

“No need to make you more uncomfortable,” Master Ito said idly.

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Don’t lie to me, lad,” Master Ito said. “You’re about to crawl out of your skin.”

Harry made a face at him and ignored the nods of agreement around the room. He sat back in his chair and evaluated his senses one by one. There was an undercurrent, a feeling of anticipation that wasn’t worrisome at all. Finally, he focused on Master Ito and shook his head.

“It’s not discomfort. I fear nothing in Britain, sir. My senses are in order,” Harry said. He got stared at hard in return, and he remained still under his fellow Sentinel’s gaze.

“There’s something,” Master Ito said. “I think I’ll have Castius come to Britain sooner rather than later.”

“I agree there is something, but it doesn’t feel worrisome.” Harry shrugged. “Or dangerous.”

“Your instincts are usually on point,” Master Ito said. “So, we’ll let this ride for the moment, but I expect you to keep an eye on yourself and report to me if things change.”

Change was inevitable, and Harry had learned to adapt along the way. It wasn’t always a smooth process, but he’d come a long way in the years since he’d left Britain. He nodded and sat back in his chair. He tapped his quill on the table gently.

“It’s nearly Armand’s bedtime,” he said, and they all laughed at the furious glare he’d earned himself. “We all know he’s a real bastard if he doesn’t get at least eight hours of sleep.”

“Prick,” Armand muttered and stood. “I’m finished speaking with you lot anyway.”

Harry looked toward Master Ito and got a nod, so he stood as well, then went in search of his empty bed in the suite of rooms they were all sharing for security purposes. There were two full beds in the room he was in, and Roman Banner soon found his way into them other bed. It was not an uncommon circumstance as Lucas would share with his life partner, Otto, whenever possible.

By the time he’d changed into pajamas and dropped down on the bed, Roman Banner was asleep. It was just as well. Harry hated having a chatty roommate on missions. Of course, now he was just staring at the ceiling and wondering if Hermione’s guest room had a better bed. It would be nice to sleep near her—to have her heartbeat within his hearing.

* * * *

Hermione dropped the potion vial in a basket on the workstation she kept for potion-making in her home office. The pain potion had dulled the ache at the base of her skull, but her head still hurt. It was an unfamiliar sort of pain. She wasn’t prone to headaches and never had been. In fact, she could count on one hand the number of headaches she’d had in the last year.

She rubbed her forehead and went into the kitchen, where she wet a towel, rung it out, and applied a charm on it to freeze it. Hermione sat down on the couch and draped the towel over her head with a little huff. Magic was great for a lot of things; chief among them was the perfect icy towel for her head. She tossed her feet up on the coffee table and pursed her lips against the towel.

Crookshanks landed on her lap, crawled up her chest, and nosed up under her towel. Hermione laughed and wrapped her arms around the cat as her cat rubbed his nose against her chin.

“My head hurts, Crooks. It’s awful,” she murmured, and the cat purred gently against her throat.

His weight was comforting, so she slouched down on the couch further and tried to relax.  

Hours later, she woke up with a dry towel on her head and Crookshanks still sleeping on her chest. She tossed the towel aside and trudged to her bed with her cat cradled in her arms. Once in bed, she cast a cooling charm on her pillow and went back to sleep.

* * * *

Hermione was curled up in her office chair with a latte and a privacy charm.

“Something wrong?” Esmeralda questioned as she closed the door to their office and flicked the lock.

“The love of my life is a Sentinel,” Hermione said sourly. “He’s determined to be my friend for the rest of his life one way or another. My cat is the most stable and rewarding relationship I actually have. I have this nebulous plan to over-educate myself to avoid men until I’m considered too old for marriage.”

“You’re too talented, strong, and brilliant to resign yourself to such a life unless you don’t…are you asexual?”

Hermione blushed. “Madam Forth.”

“It’s a legitimate thing to be,” Esmeralda said. “I’ve had my share of lovers, of course, male and female alike. I must admit a fondness for witches because they normally clean up their own messes.” She pulled a to-go cup of tea out of her purse and set it on the desk. “Now, are you inclined toward male, female, or none?”

“Male,” Hermione muttered. “But it’s been a blasted age since I’ve had sex of any sort. I could blame work, but that would be ridiculous, and you wouldn’t buy it at all. It’s just been a long time since I’ve come across a man that I’d even use a charm to shave my legs for.”

Esmeralda laughed.

“I’d buy that if you hadn’t shown up shining like a brand new knut yesterday,” Esmeralda said tartly. “Your legs are probably as smooth as a baby’s bum.”

Hermione huffed. “Maybe I’ve got a jungle growing on my legs.”

Her mentor laughed. “Sure.”

Hermione took a sip of coffee and rolled her eyes as someone knocked impatiently on their door.

“It sounds like Dumbledore,” Esmeralda muttered, drew her wand, and used it to unlock the door. “Enter!”

The door opened, and Dumbledore swept in with a swish of bright purple robes. Hermione frowned at him as he sat down in her desk chair with a put-upon sigh. She raised an eyebrow at him and took another sip of coffee.

“What have you learned about Mr. Potter’s intentions?”

Hermione made a face at him. “Excuse me?”

“Now that he’s returned to Britain, we need to make a plan to keep him here. You’re obviously the best choice to make sure that happens.”

“Sentinel Potter has no interest in staying in Britain,” Hermione said tartly. “I’ve already explained this to you, Chief Warlock Dumbledore. You have no ability whatsoever to do anything to entice him to stay and your ridiculous campaign is not only annoying, it is pitiable. Though I’m not inclined to feel pity for such a man as you. You have no honor and no integrity. You should retire and spend the rest of your days in obscurity to spare the rest of us your company.”

The old bastard stared at her in shock, which was astounding since she’d been telling him off repeatedly since her fourth year at Hogwarts. It was like disapproval just sort of slid off of him.

“Get out of our office,” Esmeralda ordered. “Being allowed to enter doesn’t equal an invitation to sit.”

Dumbledore stood. “Now that Miss Granger has achieved her mastery, Madam Forth, perhaps it is time she takes on a different position in the ministry.”

“She’s my contracted employee, and that’s exactly what she’ll remain until I say otherwise. That’s a law you gleefully put into place some years ago, correct? A mentor has carte blanche to keep their apprentice through as many years as they would like. I’ve lived a long time and have a lot to bloody teach her!” She pointed toward the door. “Out!”

Hermione stayed where she was as Dumbledore stormed out of the room. She took a sip of coffee. “Watching old people argue could become quite a fascinating sport if properly regulated.”

“Girl, I will toss you out into the street on your shapely little arse.”

“Stop looking at my arse,” Hermione said, and Esmeralda laughed.

“It is shapely,” a male voice said.

Hermione looked over to the open door and found Harry leaning on the doorframe. “Shut it.” She drank more coffee. “What did you want this early in the morning?”

He glanced around. “Is this room off-limits before tea and coffee are consumed?”

“It’s best to avoid irate witches at all times,” Hermione said and rocked in her chair. “Why are you here so early?”

“To collect you, if possible. Master Ito would like you to be on hand in the cemetery for the investigation. We’ll need the whole team assembled before we cast the forensic spells to make sure our own magical signatures and biological materials are accounted for.”

Hermione glanced toward her boss and got a nod. “I’m willing to attend. What will I be expected to provide for the investigation? I assume your team has all the basis covered.”

“Master Deering has suggested your inclusion due to local knowledge, and Master Ito has agreed with your participation as long as we work together.” Harry paused. “Since you aren’t trained for field work.”

“I can agree to that,” Hermione said and sent her mentor a look when the older witch snorted. “Madam Forth?”

“I can do without you,” Esmeralda said dryly. “Lock that door on your way out. If that old git comes back down here, I’ll go to Azkaban gladly.”

“You might get away with it,” Hermione said, and her mentor laughed.

She stood, and Harry stepped into the room to remove her cloak from the rack. Hermione took a deep breath as he settled the cloak on her shoulders. At least her head had finally stopped hurting. The coffee had been a miracle cure, and she should’ve tried it the night before. He stepped out into the hall, and she pulled the door shut behind them after flicking the lock into place.

She really didn’t want to have to visit her mentor in Azkaban, so she sent a security charm at the lock with a bit of wandless magic.

Hermione buttoned her cloak as they walked down the hall, trying to ignore the way his hand settled on her lower back. He smelled deliciously male, and that was irritating as hell. Hermione was well acquainted with irritating shite. It was hard not to be when one worked for the British Ministry of Magic.

She’d apparated them to the cottage the night before so that she could add him to the wards so she was curious as to how well he would do at the skill. It was yet another thing they’d not been allowed to learn together when she’d always thought they would. At least until he was taken away from her. Hermione took a deep breath as he pulled her close in the apparition zone, and his magic swept over her. She was still trembling when they appeared in Little Hangleton just outside of the wards erected around the cemetery.

“Okay?” Harry murmured and rubbed her shoulder gently before he released her. He pulled his wand and cast a warming charm on her cloak.

“Very smooth,” Hermione said. “And no sound at all.”

“I learned the hard way that apparition was going to be a problem if I didn’t master the sound of the transportation,” Harry said as he stepped away from her. “I should’ve contacted you this morning, so you could’ve brought a thicker cloak.”

“This is my winter cloak,” Hermione said. “I just left the wool lining at home.”

“Would you like me to retrieve it for you?” Harry questioned.

“The warming charm has done the job,” Hermione said. “Thank you.” She looked around the scene and took a deep breath. “Seeing it in the memory was bad enough. It feels awful here.”

“Agreed,” Harry said and offered her his hand. “I need to add you to the wardstone that Master Ito has set up.”

Hermione took his hand and said nothing as he skirted around the edge of the cemetery and watched him kneel on the ground. Then he pulled out a rune quill and carved into what looked like thin air. Shortly, the wardstone appeared, and her mouth dropped open. She’d never seen anything like it.

“What is….” She trailed off, unsure what she was allowed to know.

“This is a portable stasis ward,” Harry said. “We replaced the ministry’s ward with this shortly after sunrise this morning. It automatically creates scene reports as we work through various forensic spells. It’s already collected DNA and magical signatures. We fed it a copy of the memory as well, so it’ll be matching signatures with actions and consequences. For instance, we’ve already learned that Snape killed Remus Lupin.”

“An interesting discovery since he died for Hagrid and in the memory it looked like Lucius Malfoy did it.”

“They probably both cursed him at the same time but Snape’s landed first. And I think we can both agree that Rubeus Hagrid was a truly innocent party in all of this. The man wouldn’t hurt a fly and still goes to Romania several times a year to visit Norberta.” Harry paused. “And apparently, he’s listed as her mother.”

Hermione laughed. “I know. I went with him over the summer. Mostly, I was on hand to make sure he didn’t try to bring one of her babies back with him as she’d recently hatched a clutch.”

“So, he’s a grandma.”

“Yeah.” She grinned when he laughed.

Hermione looked up as the wards fully adjusted and found the entire team at work in the cemetery. There were several work tables and a full potions station. The man she knew to be Otto Bauer was placing stones in a circle. It was startling to look at, and she drifted in that direction only briefly before Harry put a hand on her back to guide her toward one of the work tables where Master Deering was seated.

“Armand is our taskmaster,” Harry said. “And he’s prepared a list of things we need done. You can pick and choose based on interest, knowledge, and ability.”

“Does he always work that way?” Hermione asked curiously.

“No, but you aren’t a known quantity to him, and he prefers not to make mistakes. So, until he knows you better and has a chance to fully assess your knowledge, Armand will let you take the lead a bit on your own assignments.”

“He’s in charge of the scene?”

“No, I am,” Harry said, and she turned to stare at him. “The ICW is officially in charge of the investigation. The Protectorate and the World Court of Magic are only here to assist. But I’d be an idiot to ignore the experience that Armand and his team bring to the situation. Learning to manage resources was one of the first lessons that Master Ito set down for me when I became his apprentice.”

Hermione nodded and tried to settle herself so she could impress one of the most powerful men in the magical society. She wondered, as they walked, if Harry understood the uniqueness of his position in the world. He had the confidence and trust of very powerful people and yet seemed unaffected by it.

“Ah, Master Granger,” Armand said as he stood and held out his hand. “I took some liberty with a time turner to read your published works.”

“Which ones?” Hermione questioned.

“All of them,” Master Deering said. “And your mastery thesis. I’m very impressed with you. I’ve heard it said, more than once, that you’re the brightest witch of your age in Britain. I’d wager you to be the brightest magical person of your generation and I’m honored to meet you. If I’d survive it, I’d offer you a job.”

Hermione glanced toward Harry and found him glaring at Master Deering. She nudged him, then elbowed him in the gut when he didn’t focus on her. “Stop glaring at him, Harry James, it’s untoward.”

Master Deering was smirking when she refocused on him. “Yeah, Potter, stop glaring at me.”

Harry sighed. “She’s not working for you, Armand.”

“I’m a whole grown-arse woman, Harry,” Hermione exclaimed.

“He requires all of his employees to take unbreakable oaths, and they’re empowered by the ICW to cast all three Unforgivables,” Harry said.

Hermione took in a shocked breath as she felt the blood drain from her face. “But…. Oh.” She exhaled. “My thanks, Master Deering, but I couldn’t possibly undertake such duties. Though, please know that I do appreciate the deep sacrifice you and everyone at the Protectorate have made to defend magic.”

Master Deering sighed and pulled a piece of parchment from a pile. “I thought that would be the case. Sweet young witches like you never want to work for me. I get stuck with stodgy old wizards like Roman.”

“I heard that, Armand!” Roman Banner yelled.

“I meant for you to!” Armand shouted back, then turned his attention to the list. “Now, Master Granger, before you pick up any general tasks, we’d be grateful if you could prepare a report regarding everything you know about Voldemort.”

Hermione nodded and took a seat. “Of course, Master Deering. Please call me Hermione.”

“Oh, I’d be thrilled. I’m Armand.”

“I had an occasion to meet your stunning wife,” Hermione said, and the older man grinned broadly. “She’s gorgeous, out of your league, and I’m entirely certain she’d kill me for smiling at you.”

“Veela are the passionate sort,” Armand said in agreement.

Hermione nodded and picked up a self-inking quill from a pile, then a piece of parchment. Harry hesitated only briefly before touching her shoulder then walking away. She watched him walk to where Otto Bauer was working and centered herself so she could focus on the task she’d been given. She decided to start with December 31, 1926—the day that Tom Marvolo Riddle was born as she’d made it her business ages ago to learn everything that she could about Harry’s mortal enemy.

* * * *

Harry put a bagged lunch down on the main work table beside Hermione, and she opened it without looking in his direction. She pulled a sandwich out and continued to read. He leaned on the table and ate his own sandwich in silence. Just being close to her was enough to soothe him in a way he hadn’t known for years. It was both concerning and relieving. A mundane, even someone so dear as Hermione, shouldn’t calm his senses in such a way.

“You look tired.”

“I had a hard time sleeping,” Hermione admitted and rubbed the back of her neck. “I had a headache that just wouldn’t go away. I ended up taking several potions and plotting shenanigans with Crookshanks.”

“Well, Crookshanks is an excellent partner for such things,” Harry said. “Where was he when I was there?”

“At the kneazle enclave next door to the cottage,” Hermione said absently as she set aside the book and picked up a quill. “He has a few girlfriends.”

“A few?” Harry questioned.

Hermione hummed. “Crookshanks is a very handsome half-kneazle. Sometimes, his girlfriends come to the cottage and sit on my porch yowling for him until he comes out to give them attention.”

“So, you’re saying that Crookshanks is a…. I don’t even know what word to use for this. Lothario?”

Hermione snorted. “Shut up.”

“Womanizer? Except for cats.” He paused. “Rake? Libertine? Debaucher?”

“A tom cat,” Hermione said with a laugh.

“I wonder if they fight over him,” Harry speculated.

“Merlin’s pants, Harry, stop talking about my cat’s love life,” Hermione said and sat back to eat her sandwich.

Pleased that he’d managed to break her free enough from the work to actually concentrate on eating, Harry pulled out a chair and sat down with her. “Is the stress too much? Is that why you had a headache?”

The stress was immense, and it had been even before Harry had come to Britain, but she’d always been more inclined toward stomach issues when she was stressed.

“No, I don’t think so,” Hermione admitted and took a big bite of the roast beef sandwich. “In fact, I’m more likely to get nauseous and throw up if I’m stressed out. Or, I’ll spiral into a complete obsessive-compulsive nightmare. You should’ve seen me taking my NEWTs. The other Gryffindors formed support groups to deal with me because I was stressing them out by being myself. But I was deeply unaware of my behavior and the impact it had on everyone around me.

“I was also hurt because I thought they were having study groups without me, and I was used to being included in study groups at least. I ended up bursting into tears in the middle of the common room a month before NEWTs and asked them why they wouldn’t let me study with them. Then, Lavender, of all people, had to explain that they weren’t studying. They were meeting to complain about how stressed out I was.

“Neville Longbottom took the hit for the whole house and offered to study with me. I made him ask me questions for hours every single day leading up to NEWTs. Because of that, he graduated from Hogwarts with six NEWTs and finished third in the whole year. Everyone was stunned, and he told them that it was hard not to learn my study guides because of the question drills.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“It’s been clear, over the years, that your time at Hogwarts after I left wasn’t good.”

“It was a bit lonely,” Hermione said. “Ron was and still is horrible. He made it clear he was only friends with me because of you. He’s also bitched and moaned more than once over the last few years about your career and international recognition. Ron had all of these expectations about what being friends with you would mean for him and none of it worked out. He blames you for his failures.”

“And you.”

“Of course, because I stopped helping him with his homework when he made it clear it was the only thing I was good for. He only took one OWL home and was put on probation. He left Hogwarts with no NEWTs and only got a job with the ministry because of his father. I don’t think even his own father wanted to hire him but got berated into it by Molly.”

Harry didn’t miss Ron Weasley at all and couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about the man unless Hermione brought him up. “When was the last time you saw Ron?”

“I see him regularly in the ministry café since he still loves to eat more than anything, and employees eat for free. But we’ve not actually spoken in months. I imagine he’ll manage to bump into me as soon as he hears you’re in Britain. Dumbledore is more than willing to weaponize whomever he can, Harry. And I don’t know why it’s important to him that you stay here, but he’ll keep at it until the day he dies.”

“He’s just a control freak,” Harry said. “And he can’t control what I’m seeing, learning, and doing. He’s a bastard, honestly. A mean old bastard who didn’t care that I grew up with abusive Muggles. The Dursleys didn’t care if I lived or died. Well, they care now since they were sanctioned by the International Consortium of Sentinels and Guides for their poor behavior, and they’re still paying the fines associated with those sanctions.”

“For you and Dudley.”

“Yeah, he’s dormant now—destroyed by their behavior as a Sentinel. They’ll be paying for the crimes against him for the rest of their lives,” Harry admitted. “He won’t even speak to them now—he understands what they took from him through their behavior. I set up a trust fund for him since it’s difficult for him to work due to depression. The Burton Foundation handles the day-to-day issues and even provides a caretaker of sorts for him. He basically has a life manager who keeps him on his anti-depressants and makes sure that he eats on schedule.”

Hermione nodded and frowned. “I hate the Dursleys for a lot of reasons. Did you want me to befriend Dudley and keep an eye on him?”

“No.”

She blinked in surprise and Harry realized his tone had been a tad too firm.

“He’s damaged, foul-tempered, and while his parents’ abuse plays a part in his dormancy, it’s not the only reason, Hermione. He had it better than me in that house, and I didn’t go dormant. He used to say that my magic saved me, but he’s learned over the years that his parents’ emotional abuse of us both is the reason he’s the way he is. Dudley is immensely selfish, Hermione. I wish it were different.”

“I wish it were different as well. His parents should still be in jail.”

“Had either of us been online as children, they would’ve been jailed for life for abusing us,” Harry said. “But the laws protecting latents aren’t as strong as they should be in Britain. Things are changing, catching up with the cruelty of the modern world. A lot of the laws that protect my kind were created when horses were the most popular form of transportation for Muggles. It was only in the last ten years that medical experiments on Sentinels and Guides were outlawed internationally.”

“That’s the kind of thing that could make me riot all by myself,” Hermione admitted, then took a big bite of her sandwich.

“I’ve come to realize that some fights aren’t mine to undertake,” Harry admitted. “It took some work, I admit.”

“What is your fight?”

“I’ve invested myself in justice,” Harry murmured. “And the protection of those who can’t protect themselves. I fight dark wizards because they abuse others. I’m disappointed that Severus Snape is dead because I’d have liked to kill himself.”

Hermione huffed a little.

“Sorry.” Harry winced and stretched his back.

“No, I mean, I’ve just been thinking the same thing since I realized he was the one who told Voldemort the prophecy. That rat bastard died too quickly and too easily for my sense of justice.” Hermione picked up the flask of water he’d sat down near her and drank from it. “This place is awful. I wonder if it felt this way before the ritual? Do you remember how ugly the diary felt? I’ll never understand how Ginny was able to write in it. You could barely hold it when you found it.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully and looked around the cemetery. “I should’ve realized then that there was something far more going on with that diary than just a personality spell.”

“We were young,” Hermione said. “And basically ignorant of the magical world at large. Ginny and Ron should’ve honestly known better. Do you remember the blistering lecture that Arthur Weasley gave us about magical objects that talk? And how we shouldn’t trust anything that we don’t know the origin of, especially if we can’t see its brain.”

“Yeah, I took it to heart. That particular lecture has saved my life more than once since I left Britain.” He stood from the table and offered her his hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

Hermione took his hand and stood with a nod. “Where are we going?”

“Let’s see where it feels the worst,” Harry murmured.

Her fingers clenched briefly in his as they walked through the cemetery, past the ritual circle that Otto was building and the large cauldron that was still in place from the resurrection.

“We’ll cleanse the area in ritual when we’re finished with the investigation to prevent any unfortunate consequences. Muggles won’t have any magical issues with the area, but this level of dark magic could cause psychological issues.”

Hermione nodded and frowned as they skirted the edge of the cemetery then crossed the ward boundary with a little tug on his hand. Harry followed, curious as to what she was sensing that the wasn’t.

“What do you feel?”

“Something…lonely,” Hermione admitted. “The diary had a curse on it, right? Or at least some kind of compulsion to encourage the owner to write in it.”

“I wanted to write in it when I had it,” Harry admitted. “And I tried several times, but it was really off-putting, probably because of my latent Sentinel abilities. I had nightmares about Tom Riddle as a result. I wasn’t all that surprised to see him in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Shortly, they came to stand in front of a shack. Armand joined them and stared at the building.

“What are you doing?”

“Hermione was exposed to the diary at Hogwarts,” Harry said. “She thinks something like it is here and is cursed.” He turned toward her. “Do you know what this is, Mi?”

“It’s what is left of the Gaunt estate,” Hermione said. “All of this land once belonged to the family, but they inbred the magic right out of their life. Tom Riddle is the son of Merope Gaunt and a Muggle man she potioned to love her. I’m surprised she was fertile, honestly, because of the reported level of deformity that she had due to the inbreeding. The family had been intermarrying for at least five generations, and her parents were brother and sister.”

Harry made a face.

“Right?” Hermione shuddered. “At any rate, this is what is left of the Gaunt family—a ramshackle building that is probably only being held together by decaying magic.”

“Tell me what you feel,” Armand instructed.

“Loneliness,” Hermione said and took a deep breath. “I feel like whatever is in the shack is severely cursed with dark magic. It’s not organic.”

“Like the diary.”

“Worse,” Hermione admitted. “But certainly terribly similar. The Gaunts were murdered, supposedly by their own son. But I’ve come to believe that he was framed. If that’s the case, then Riddle might have made a horcrux on this very spot during the murders of his maternal family.” She rubbed the back of her neck and exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” Harry said and pulled her back from the shack. “Per Master Ito, I’m not allowed to touch the horcruxes. We suspect he’s made several, but our search for them was legally forbidden in the past.” He turned toward Armand. “I’ll send Roman to you.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Be careful, Armand,” Harry murmured. “Never underestimate Tom Riddle. I know you don’t think much of him for various reasons, but don’t let that disdain get you killed.”

“I’ll stay right here until Roman arrives.” Armand stepped back from the shack and tucked his hands behind his back. “I don’t feel any compulsion to enter the building, nor do I sense what Miss Granger is experiencing. Such magical sensitivity is a rare and valuable gift.”

* * * *

Her head was killing her again. The pain potion she’d taken had only dulled the edge, and there was nothing else in her stash that would do a damn thing for her. It had started shortly after she’d parted ways with Harry, and that had to mean something. She just didn’t know what. She was torn between going to a Muggle pharmacy or an apothecary. Almost instantly, she decided to go to London as she’d already tried potions to no avail.

Hermione went to her closet and pulled out a wool peacoat to put over her pant suit as a cloak would look silly on a Muggle street. She buttoned up as she left the cottage, apparated to Diagon Alley, and exited quickly into London. There was a small pharmacy not far from the Alley so she headed for it as quickly as she could. Her head hurt so bad she was afraid she might throw up.

She went to the pharmacist’s counter and was relieved there was no line.

“Good evening. How can I help you?”

“I have a headache,” Hermione murmured. “And that’s rare for me, honestly. I’m not sure which medication would work best.”

“Let’s talk about your symptoms,” the pharmacist said and pulled a sheet of paper from a stack behind him. “Blurry vision?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“Yes, a lot.” Hermione took a deep breath, and the man motioned toward a refrigerated case next to the counter.

“Have some water, please.”

Hermione retrieved a bottle of water, opened it, and had a long drink. “My apologies.”

“There’s an emergency clinic two blocks away,” the pharmacist said. “You might wish to visit them.” He cleared his throat and focused on the checklist. “Dizziness?”

“No.”

“Neck stiffness, light or smell sensitivity, confusion?”

“No, none of those,” Hermione said. “Just intense pain.”

“Unexplained sadness, depression, extended contact with an online, unbonded Sentinel?”

Hermione reared back in surprise. “What?”

“Unbonded Sentinels are psionically needy through no fault of their own. They can cause latent Guides to experience headaches after extended contact,” the man explained quietly.

Hermione took a sip of water as she considered that. “Yes, the last one, but I’ve not experienced any sort of depression.”

“Are you a latent Guide?”

“No, I was tested as a child,” Hermione said, and the man grimaced. “What?”

“At your age, that would’ve been during a time when parents regularly paid for fake results to avoid having their children put in Burton Foundation schools,” the man explained. “Now there are regulations and procedures in place to prevent that kind of thing—to protect the children from their own parents.”

Hermione considered that and looked down at the list. “Anything else?”

“Let’s look at another list?”

She nodded and glanced briefly at his name tag. “Is it Dr. Loyd?”

“Yes, I have two doctorates,” the man said and inclined his head toward a door. “Please step through and we’ll continue this evaluation in private.”

“Yes, thank you.”

 She opened the door and was directed to a small office. Once seated, she took another sip of water. “What’s your second doctorate in?”

“Psionic Studies,” Dr. Loyd said as he sat down at the desk. “It was a financial decision. The Burton Foundation pays very well and contracts various health professionals across the world to help them find and protect Sentinels and Guides. The stipend for it put my son through school in the US. He’ll graduate Harvard soon with a law degree.”

“Congratulations,” Hermione said warmly but then took a deep breath. “My mother is an online Guide. My parents’ marriage imploded over it. I haven’t seen her since I was six years old because her Sentinel didn’t want her to have contact with my father after they were bonded. She agreed. I felt like she threw me away for a stranger, and frankly, I’ll never forgive her for it.”

“I understand,” Dr. Loyd said. “Your father had you tested at some point.”

“Yes, but I…. I remember going to the doctor when I was eight, and there were tests done, but the results weren’t discussed with me in the office.” Hermione shifted in the chair. “I don’t want to believe my father lied to me, Dr. Loyd.”

“It would be a difficult betrayal to get past, considering your mother’s abandonment,” the man said and cleared his throat. “There’s a simple blood test we can do.”

“Really?”

“There have been immense advancements in the study of Sentinel and Guide genetics in the past decade,” Dr. Loyd said and opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a box. “I just need a small amount of blood. I realize that’s a big ask for you, considering your other circumstances.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I have two children,” Dr. Loyd explained. “One is in the US studying at Harvard, and the other is in Rome studying at a very exclusive academy for the especially gifted. I bought her a similar bracelet to what you’re wearing for Christmas. I hope she likes it.”

Hermione touched her wand holster. “It’s a lovely gift and the best one I’ve found. The construction is very solid. It’s also spelled to be invisible to non-magicals.”

The man nodded. “I’m not a squib, but I don’t have enough magic to be able to use a wand. My parents made sure I was educated thoroughly in the Muggle world so I could make a life for myself. I was very proud when my daughter received her letter. Just as proud as I was when my son was accepted at Harvard, despite the cost.”

Hermione nodded. “Being a latent Guide in Britain would be extremely…. I don’t want to say dangerous, but I’m sure you know that the attitude surrounding such things is rife with bigotry and disapproval. I already have to put with the blood purity crap as a Muggle-born.”

“I understand. It’s late, but I have a contact with the Burton Foundation that can help you deal with this. I don’t recommend that you make your situation known to the magical community at large.” He opened the box and pulled out the kit. It looked very much like a pregnancy test. “This won’t provide anything but a negative or positive response. You’ll need to go to the Foundation for further testing.”

“I understand,” Hermione said and pulled her wand. She nicked her finger with a murmured spell, and he took the sample quickly, then she healed it. “Benedic essentia sanguine.”

“My daughter has never explained why the blessing prevents the blood from being used for a nefarious purpose,” Dr. Loyd said as he dropped the dulled blood into the tester.

“It’s essentially very much like the creation of holy water,” Hermione said. “It creates a state within the blood that prevents anyone from using the blood without my explicit permission. The blessing also nullifies the magic. There is a reason why the established religions and the magical community have been at odds for thousands of years.”

Dr. Loyd nodded and took a deep breath as he stared at the plastic tester. “Positive—an immediate result indicates a rich connection to the psionic plane facilitated by your genetic legacy.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she held out her hand, and the man put the test in her hand. She stared at it for a moment, then tucked the test in her coat pocket.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Loyd said. “I don’t know if your father will apologize for what he’s done to you. At your age, you should’ve already had a thorough education regarding psionics and your gifts as a Guide. The best thing you can do for your headache is to go to a Burton Foundation facility and learn how to meditate so you can control your reaction to the unbonded Sentinel in your life.”

“I’m coming online,” Hermione said.

“It’s usually how it goes in your circumstances,” Dr. Loyd said. “I don’t know how you feel about the Sentinel, but is congratulations in order?”

“I…. I don’t know,” she admitted hoarsely. She pressed her fingers to her mouth and shuddered.

“Okay, are you willing to go to the Foundation?”

“Yes,” Hermione murmured.

“Then I shall escort you. Let me tell my assistant that I’m taking a walk.”

Hermione nodded and stayed where she was as he left the room in favor of finding his assistant. Her fingers clenched, and she adjusted her holster just in case. Then because she was nervous as fuck, she stood and put her back to the wall so she could see the entrance.

Dr. Loyd returned and paused to stare. He nodded. “Let’s go then. You are clearly on edge.”

“I feel like an orphan,” Hermione blurted out. “Both of my parents are selfish bastards.”

“One day, you’ll have a Sentinel, and they will be everything you need,” Dr. Loyd said and offered her his arm.

She curled her hand around his arm and took a calming breath. “Thank you for being so kind, Dr. Loyd.”

“I hope that if my daughter was in such need, she would meet with a kind person who could help her.”

* * * *

Hermione used Basil, her owl, to send a note to Esmeralda, letting her know she couldn’t come to work due to a severe headache. The owl had returned quickly with a little box from her boss containing a pain potion, a box of tea, and a package of chocolate biscuits. She’d spent the night at the Foundation facility and had returned home with several books. A Guide had helped her settle her mind and build a psionic shield, but she had a lot to learn.

It felt overwhelming and her ignorance on the subject was infuriating. She checked her watch. Her father was semi-retired from his dental practice and would be at home since it was morning, and he only worked in the afternoon. Hermione cast a cleaning charm on herself and her clothes since she was still wearing the clothes from the day before, then apparated to her father’s backyard.

Her father was in the kitchen, fussing over his breakfast, and for a moment, Hermione just stared at him through the window. This was, she knew, the last time she’d speak to the man who fathered her. Even after twenty years, she knew that her father resented the Sentinel/Guide community for the loss of his wife. He’d never remarried and rarely dated.

Finally, she entered the house through the back door, and he looked her way with a quick smile.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I took the day off,” Hermione said and crossed her arms over her chest. “Dad, I….” Tears welled in her eyes, and he put down the teapot.

“What’s wrong?” He walked toward her and reached out to touch her.

Hermione jerked back. “Don’t…. Please don’t touch me.”

Her father’s hand fell, and he stared at her. “What’s happened. Have you been hurt?”

“I’ve been destroyed,” Hermione said hoarsely and looked away from him. “You…. Out of all the men in my life, I trusted you the most. I believed you’d never, ever betray me, and yet you’ve done the worst possible thing a father could do. You allowed your hurt and bigotry to put me in the situation I’m in. I’m in danger—a profound amount of danger due to ignorance, and magical Britain is precariously close to a state of civil war.

“Voldemort was resurrected a month ago, and you know how wretched that situation could become. I’m not even sure I can do my job because of my current emotional and physical state. I’m standing here with a psionic-induced migraine because I’m coming online as a Guide, and I have zero training. I know nothing about it, and that’s your fault! You lied to me!”

Her father took a step back from her, and his face shuttered. She saw the rage and disapproval blaze briefly in his eyes then he sent her a look full of reproach and disapproval.

“Get out of my house,” he said coldly. “And don’t ever return.” He turned his back on her and went back to preparing his tea.

Hermione drew her wand, centered herself, and exhaled slowly. “I am oath-bound, as an employee of the British Ministry of Magic, to accept your disownment and reciprocate in full in order to protect magic and adhere to the International Statute of Secrecy. Obliviate.”

The spell hit her father, and she apparated out of the house she’d grown up in with a soft pop. Hermione stumbled through her garden to a little bench she’d thrifted on Diagon Alley. Hermione sat down on it and buried her face in her hands as she started to cry uncontrollably.

A soft hoot caught her attention, and she turned to find her owl sitting on the arm of the bench. Her barn owl had been purchased shortly after she left Hogwarts. Basil was a charming fellow with very good manners and always seemed to know when he was needed. Hermione scooted close and took a deep breath.

“I should be happy about this, Basil, but I’m not,” Hermione murmured. “I mean, I’m not…sad about what is happening to me. It’s so crazy. I can’t believe my father did this to me and the way he just turned his back on me. I should’ve made him go to therapy years ago to deal with his bitterness and hatred for my mother. Now, I’m alone.”

“You’re never alone.”

She turned and found Harry standing near the gate. “Harry.”

He came into the garden and sat down on the bench with her. “What’s wrong, Mi? You’re crying.” He brushed a tear from her face. “And you’re sitting outside in the cold. Madam Forth reported to the team that you were ill. Master Ito sent me to check on you to make sure you weren’t suffering the effects of the horcrux.”

“They found one, then.”

“Yes, a ring, and it had a disgusting wasting curse on it. It took them most of the afternoon and evening to dismantle the curse,” Harry murmured and took her hand. “Talk to me, love.”

“I had another terrible headache,” Hermione said. “And a pain potion did nothing for it. So, I went into London and visited a pharmacy to see if a Muggle medication might help. I ended up going into a Burton Foundation-associated pharmacy. I was encouraged to take a test, and… my father lied to me, Harry.”

Harry exhaled slowly and moved closer to her. “You’re latent.”

“Yes, a Guide like my mother.” Hermione shuddered. “And I’m unprepared—completely ignorant of my circumstances, and I feel so unsafe. Knowledge has always been my best weapon against the world. I know precious little about being a Guide, and it’s the worst possible time to come into this kind of gift. I can’t stay here…. My whole life is gone.” She turned then and fell into him with a sob.

He held her close, and she pressed her face against his neck. “I’m sorry.”

She just shuddered against him and said nothing when he picked her up and took her into the cottage. Harry sat down on the sofa with her and settled her in his lap.

“Is this my fault?” Harry questioned.

She wanted to deny it because Hermione didn’t want to give either one of them some kind of hope. She didn’t know how Harry felt about her, but she knew that he really wanted a Guide and partner in his life that was his alone.

“I don’t know,” she said and lifted her head. “The people at the Foundation said that I’m coming online in response to my circumstances. I didn’t discuss the resurrection with them, though I did speak with a Guide who was also magical. I suggested Castius Arnou because he’s fully aware of the situation, and his placement as Master Ito’s Guide means he’d be showing up sooner or later, right?”

Harry nodded. “Master Ito did say he was going to ask him to come to Britain soon, so none of us questioned his arrival late last night.”

“He has permission to discuss the situation with Master Ito,” Hermione said and looked down at her hands. “I’m scared, Harry, and I’ve not felt that way in a very long time. My father…. He turned his back on me and said he never wanted to see me again. He loathes Guides, and it seems like he only tolerated me because I wasn’t online.”

“Tell me what you need,” Harry said and gently pushed her hair back from her face. “And you will have it.”

She stared at him in shock. “I don’t know…. I’m at a loss, Harry. I hate being so unprepared for this. Master Arnou taught me some spells to use to create an empathic shield. My head feels much better. Of course, it also doesn’t hurt at all when I’m with you. Apparently, online Sentinels are psionically needy bastards.”

Harry laughed and poked her gently in the side. “I have it on good authority that my parents were married when I was born.” He took a deep breath against her hair, and she couldn’t help but stiffen. “My apologies.” He started to put her down on the sofa, but she clutched at him. “You are the queen of mixed signals right now.”

Hermione huffed at his dry tone. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I can’t pretend to understand how upset you are. I know how much you trusted your father as the only parent who cared, and finding out his love is conditional must be awful.”

“Isn’t all love conditional?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry murmured. “But unconditional love doesn’t have to come free of consequence. You can love something or someone and still remove them from your life for your own sake or theirs.”

“He told me to never come back,” Hermione said quietly. “And I had to…I memory charmed him.”

“Protecting magic and our communities has never been more important,” Harry said. “And our agreement with the Burton Foundation is delicate. With a threat like Tom Riddle rising up again in Britain, we’ll have to tread carefully, or the exposure would be…. I don’t think the world is ready for real witches and wizards, Hermione. They’ll expect too much, demand more than is possible, and hate us for power they cannot learn or be given. The resentment will cause nothing but death and destruction. That’s not even to consider the religious angle because, frankly, I think some in the Vatican would welcome a chance to burn a few people at the stake.”

“We see how they treat each other over race, religion, and sexual orientation,” Hermione murmured. “We’d be so other to them that discriminating us wholesale would be the work of nothing. I think if that were the case, our only choice would be a dimensional retreat. I really hope someone is already working on that because it couldn’t be done overnight.”

“So, you’re coming online because of the stress.”

“Or because of you.” She paused. “Or both. Probably both. I’m not saying you stress me out, though sometimes you have in the past because you never did what I said when I said, and obviously, I’m normally right, and you should do what I say to avoid getting bitten by a giant, vicious snake.”

“You were petrified when I got bit by that giant snake and had no advice to offer outside of an on-point prediction regarding the nature of the threat,” Harry said in amusement.

“I did my best,” Hermione murmured. “I always try to do the best I can, Harry. My father taught me that.”

“How far did you take the memory charm?”

“I removed his knowledge of magic,” Hermione murmured. “He no longer remembers where I went to school or anything related to the magical world. He knows that he disowned me because I’m a latent Guide. Perhaps it would’ve been kinder to remove his memories of me altogether. He doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“I agree,” Harry said quietly. “And his life is poorer for turning you away.”

“I should’ve let someone else handle it. The ministry would’ve sent someone to the house to handle it.”

“Someone that could’ve done a sloppy or incomplete job that could’ve led to brain damage,” Harry pointed out. “You know those types don’t always take care with non-magicals the way they should, and the ministry in Britain sure as hell doesn’t care.”

“What if…I am coming online because of you?” Hermione questioned. “What would you think?”

“I would ask you why you’ve really turned down every single invitation I’ve made to come to Italy and why you declined a position at the International Academy of Magic,” Harry admitted. “I’d ask that because I’ve missed you so much it hurt since I left Britain, and I don’t think you hurt the same way. Maybe it was because I’m online, and you’re not.”

“Our friendship has always been intense,” Hermione murmured. “Ron hated that and even complained that he didn’t get any glory over the whole issue with the stone because he had let himself be taken out by the chessboard. He always said it like it was a sacrifice, but he just played a bad game, and I’ve often wondered if he did it on purpose.”

She paused and frowned.

“Of course, all of those traps were contrived and so silly that some first years got past them. I always wondered if it wasn’t some sort of test—as if Dumbledore was testing something. Now I know he was testing the prophecy. It was his way of replicating the events of the first time Tom Riddle tried to kill you.”

“You think he lured him to Hogwarts with the Philosopher’s Stone to test the protective magic my mother created with her sacrifice,” Harry said.

“That’s real?”

“Very, but it’s specific to Voldemort, and it doesn’t work the way that Dumbledore assumed. My aunt had nothing to do with it and that should’ve been obvious to anyone since she doesn’t have a single drop of magic at her disposal. Those wards on Privet Drive were a prison for me and my magic. Master Ito’s final act on that matter, when Dumbledore kept harping on it, was to go there and destroy them. He ground the wardstone to dust in front of Dumbledore.

“Apparently, they almost came to blows. Master Ito didn’t speak to Armand for more than a year because he prevented a satisfying round of fisticuffs.”

“Does it make you wonder what you’ll be like when you’re older…being surrounded by surly old men as you went from a boy to a man?”

Harry hummed under his breath. “I’m sure the good outweighs the bad.”

“I was trying to keep myself safe,” Hermione murmured. “At least, as much as I could.”

“From what?” Harry questioned.

“Being in love with a man I can’t have,” Hermione said, and Harry took a deep breath. “Our friendship has always had the potential to fall in that direction, and we both know it.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “I’d give it up for you.”

“Harry.” She turned to stare at him in shock. “You can’t just….”

“If you’d asked me to stay in Britain when I was fourteen, I would’ve done it. If you’d told me that being a Sentinel wasn’t the best choice for me, I’d have taken you very seriously at that age. I trusted you the most of anyone I knew, and you told me to trust the ICW. You told me to trust Hiro Ito. So, I did.”

“I wouldn’t ever ask you to suppress your abilities as a Sentinel,” Hermione said. “Not for me or anyone else. I was so relieved when you were safe in Rome, even if we were separated.” She caught one of his hands in both of hers. “I need to get myself settled and think about what comes next for me.”

“I understand,” Harry said. “I should return to work. Otherwise, Master Ito will come here to check on you himself.”

“Will you come back for dinner?” she questioned as she released his hand.

“Yes, of course,” Harry said and put her down on the sofa. “If you change your mind and want more time to yourself—just send Basil with a note.”

Hermione nodded. “I don’t mean to be weird about this.”

“Honestly, love, in this situation, you can be as weird as you’d like. You’ve been dealt an immense shock and a betrayal on top of it. Read one of your books and let me know if you want any more specific resources. I can bring them when I return.”

“Thank you.”

* * * *

Harry slouched down in the seat at the conference table and tried to ignore all the pointed looks he was getting. They’d clearly all been briefed on the situation while he’d been in Wales visiting her. He inclined his head when Armand cleared his throat.

“Whatever you’re about to ask, Armand, please keep in mind that there are some very intimate and personal choices to be made when it comes to bonding with a Guide,” Master Ito said idly. “I’m curious as well, but it’s not any of our business.”

“Well, the situation has already sidelined the one local contact that Potter has agreed to work with,” Armand said. “And her input yesterday turned out to be the most valuable. Miss Granger led us right to a horcrux.”

Harry couldn’t discount that. “She’ll probably be back to work in the morning. Hermione doesn’t let anything keep her down for long. We should concentrate on containing the horcrux until we can use it to find the others. I don’t think it’s a good idea for Hermione to be in the same room with it. She felt its malignance at a distance, through the wards, we’re using to shield the cemetery.”

“It’s disgusting,” Castius muttered and brought a cup of coffee to the table. “And Miss Granger is very empathetic for her current state. She’s shifting rapidly through the latent stages, surely because of Harry, and we need to make allowances for that situation. It might slow down the investigation, and there could come a point where I’ll have to insist that they both be evacuated from Britain. Tom Riddle’s magical state is an abomination, and no untrained online Guide should be exposed to such a thing.”

“Do we know why she’s been left untrained?” Louis Bertrand questioned. “She doesn’t seem the sort to leave herself ignorant.”

“Her father lied to her and told her that she was mundane,” Harry said roughly. “She never had any reason whatsoever to think he’d lie to her. It’s broken her heart, and if she hadn’t memory charmed him to make him forget magic, I’d go to his house and curse him out.”

“She obliviated her own father?” Armand questioned. “Merlin, I love a mercenary woman.”

“He disowned her because she’s coming online,” Harry said. “It’s clearly been a very difficult transition for her. I can’t imagine that kind of betrayal—mostly because I’ve no memories of my parents. But she trusted him, believed in him, and he was the only parent she had left since her mother bailed on her when she was six in favor of a Sentinel who couldn’t tolerate his Guide’s husband and child.”

Master Ito took a deep breath. “Is her mother non-magical?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Harry admitted. “Hermione hasn’t had any contact with her biological mother in a very long time and probably wouldn’t have risked discussing magic with her. I’ve never really prodded her much on the subject of her mother since it was a sore subject.” He cleared his throat. “As to her father, she was legally obligated to have him memory charmed to forget magic because he disowned her. Hermione knows better than to trust anyone in the British ministry to handle such a thing for her.”

“I wouldn’t trust most of the people in this building to wipe their own ass,” Lucas muttered and shrugged at the amused looks he earned himself.

Otto leaned forward and put both hands on the table. “I’d like to go to the bank to set up our cleansing space, and I’ll be meeting with Master Sharprock to confirm the space we’ve rented in about an hour unless you’d prefer otherwise, sir.”

Master Ito nodded. “It’s the best use of your time. Roman, did you want to go with him?”

“I would,” Roman said. “My son is in Britain right now working on an issue for Chieftain Ragnok and let me know he’s available if we need him. He left Piper and the children in Paris on my recommendation, but he doesn’t know why. I suspect that the resurrection of Riddle is going to break sooner rather than later. I couldn’t allow him to bring his family back into the country.”

“It’s for the best,” Harry said. “But he’s going to be irritated to have to evacuate his mother-in-law. She’ll probably find some way to blame him for the whole thing.” Roman laughed. “It’s a good thing he actually loves his wife, or he’d have already pitched her mother out into the Atlantic.”

“She’s a real piece of work,” Roman admitted. “Always has been—she was a complete nightmare in school. I had to work hard to get over how disappointed I was that Thaddeus had to go and marry her daughter. Piper is lovely; she certainly takes after her father, but I could do without knowing or interacting with Violet Thorne.”

Master Ito stood. “Harry, we’ll speak in private. Lucas, get started on reconfiguring a container for the horcrux, and Harry will join you when we’re done. Armand, did you want to update Louis on everything? And we need to make a decision on briefing Chieftain Ragnok sooner rather than later on the horcrux situation. We may need to search the bank.”

“I’ll take the update, but it’ll have to be brief,” Louis said. “I’ll be meeting with Minister Bones about Azkaban shortly. Most of Tom Riddle’s followers are imprisoned there. We need to make sure they stay in custody.”

Harry had opinions about that but decided to keep them to himself as everyone already knew that he believed the only good Death Eater was a dead one. He stood and went to the sideboard near the back of the room and poured himself some coffee.

“I asked you once—who your ideal Guide would be, and her name came out of your mouth before I finished the question,” Hiro said.

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.” He took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes briefly. “But I hate how hurt and upset she is over what her father did. When I found her, she was crying on a bench in her garden. She told her fussy little owl that she was alone. It broke my heart to see her that way. I’d have never, ever wished this kind of trauma and heartache on her.”

“Parental betrayal is a unique and deeply painful trauma,” Hiro admitted. “My father has been dead for thousands of years, and I still haven’t forgiven him for….” He cleared his throat, and Harry focused on his mentor.

“Sir?”

“There was a girl. I adored her and would’ve done anything to have her and keep her. Anything, of course, but defy my father’s wishes. I went to serve Emperor Yu, and when I returned two years later, the woman I loved was married to my brother. My father always favored Ming and gave him anything he wanted. Ming wanted her, and during that time period, it did not matter what she wanted. At least, it didn’t matter to those who made the decisions.”

“What did you do?” Harry questioned.

“I’d returned a hero,” Hiro said. “Praise for my actions in battle had spread far and wide—so I came home to a celebration. My father was so proud of me right up until the moment my brother arrogantly introduced his wife to me. I stared at them and saw my mother begging silently for me to accept it. I couldn’t. I’d brought home a gift—some gold trinket sent to me by the Emperor, whom I hadn’t met at that point. I threw it at my father’s feet and told him to take pride in it—as it was the only thing he’d have left to remember his oldest son.

“I walked away from him, and my mother’s sobs followed me in my dreams for years. A year after I left the village, I returned to the Emperor’s service with a new name and purpose. I rose through the ranks of his army quickly and soon became a general. All I had was training and combat. Magic was accepted in China at the time but users of my power and rank were few and far between.

“Twenty-five years after I left home, I met my nephew. He was a promising young man who had his mother’s look. I hated him.”

Harry sighed.

“I know, Harry. Still, he’s been dead for thousands of years, so I can hate what he represented. I didn’t treat him unfairly. In fact, I avoided him as much as possible—no matter how well he did. He rose through the ranks much like I had as a younger man. There came a point when he asked what he could do to earn my attention as he wanted to learn from me. In a moment of fury, I told him that he was fortunate that I allowed him to be in the same room with me. I turned my back on him, and the last words he spoke to me were, Uncle, please.”

“He knew who you were,” Harry said.

“Yes, of course he did. He was bright, just like his mother. I had him transferred to a different regiment at that point and was relieved when I heard that he’d left the Army when his time was spent. His mother sent me a letter. She thanked me for the fact that her only child came home to her as he blamed me for not seeking a career in the military.”

“Did you ever go home?”

“No, but I’ve watched my family line from a distance. There have been no magicals or Sentinels in the last four generations. I don’t expect either gift to return,” Hiro said. “I never forgave my father or brother for the betrayal. It was what spurred me to leave China eventually, and that trip led to my encounter with a wizard who gifted me with the bloodstone I carry to this day.”

“Do you still think about her?”

“In a bittersweet sort of way,” Hiro said. “But I would be long dead and buried if I’d married that amazing young woman, and I don’t regret the life I’ve led, Harry.”

He nodded.

“How do you feel?”

“Elated, furious.” Harry cleared his throat. “Were he any other man alive, I’d be ruining his life, Hiro. But I can’t do such a thing to her father because she loves him no matter what he’s said and done. I can’t be the instrument of his ruin, no matter how much he deserves it.”

“I realize your focus is split, and I understand it. Try to stay on task as much as possible today and stick close to Lucas. I’ve already spoken to him about what to look for regarding your behavior and senses.” Harry nodded. “And tonight—go to her and stay with her. She needs the security of a Sentinel even if she doesn’t realize it.”

Harry didn’t know if it was a relief or not to be given such instructions.

“You’re a good man, Harry,” Hiro said. “If you’re worried about acting inappropriately—let her take the lead. She seems the sort to know exactly what she wants.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Hermione’s never had a problem making her wishes absolutely clear.”

But she clearly had gotten comfortable hiding her motivations. It wasn’t a fair judgment, but it felt true. He couldn’t really blame her. An online Sentinel was a bad bet for a mundane on the romance front and everyone knew it. He’d had to content himself with very casual sexual relationships for years. It hadn’t been what he wanted, but the needs were met.

Hiro’s hand settled on his shoulder. “Harry.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look like a man who just had a dream come true,” his mentor said gently.

“You say that like it’s a sure thing,” Harry said roughly.

“Compatibility seems to be in the cards since she’s coming online in response to you.”

“Or Tom Riddle.”

“If his resurrection were enough then she would’ve come online with a week of finding out,” Hiro said. “You know that well enough. Did you not come online in a near instant when faced with one of the most dangerous and vicious dragons on Earth?”

Harry made a face. “That dragon is an arsehole, and you know it.”

“She’s actually pretty par for the course when it comes to that particular breed of dragon,” Hiro said in amusement.  “I understand why you don’t want to consider it a guarantee. Just don’t back away from the relationship so fast that you make a mistake with her.”

“Hermione’s always been good at reining me in,” Harry said wryly, and Hiro laughed. “I don’t want to presume anything, but she did tell me she avoided coming to Rome because of me.”

“I can’t blame her for that if she thought she was mundane. It seems like you already have a very deep and intimate friendship with her. I can see how it would’ve been difficult to keep things from going in a romantic direction due to proximity alone.”

Harry looked at the floor. “I hope I could’ve done better by her in those circumstances, Hiro. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe, and I’ve always felt that way.”

“It’s not uncommon for two latents to come together young and come online within months of each other. Had you stayed in Britain, she’d have come online long before now,” Hiro said.

“I can’t dwell on those kinds of what-ifs,” Harry said roughly. “There’s enough pain associated with coming online for me, Hiro. I can’t say it wasn’t a gift, but it cost me everything. It cost me a life I thought I was going to have in Britain.”

“And you thought it cost you her.”

“Yes.” Harry set aside the coffee cup, and it disappeared with a pop of house-elf magic. “I’ll get myself settled.”

“Of course you will,” Hiro said.

* * * *

Hermione had the table set for two around tea time because she had no doubts that her mentor would be showing up. Esmeralda knocked on the door at 3:00 PM, and Hermione opened the door.

“You’ve never called in sick, not once,” Esmeralda said tartly as she pulled off her gloves. She tossed them on the entry table then hung up her cloak. “What’s wrong with you? Did you take a day off to pine about that pretty bastard?”

“Harry has assured me that his parents were married when he was born,” Hermione retorted and walked back toward the kitchen. “I made smoked salmon sandwiches since you like those, and the café at the ministry always uses too much mayo.”

“Even when you tell them not to,” Esmeralda muttered.

“Well, they serve a lot of people,” Hermione said and sat down at the table. “Regardless, I have a terrible headache, and it’s Harry’s fault.”

“Did you two argue?” she questioned as she poured herself some tea and made a plate for herself. “He seems the even-tempered sort—not like that ginger fool that comes around and acts like he’s entitled to your time and attention merely because he exists.”

Hermione laughed and took a deep breath. “It’s been a difficult twenty-four hours if I’m honest. I had to obliviate my own father.”

“Why?”

“He disowned me, and the law is clear. It must be permanent because he can no longer be trusted with the secret of magic,” Hermione said quietly. “I wish I’d been prepared for it, so I’m dealing with a lot of…loss, and the losses are going to keep coming.”

“What do you mean?” Esmeralda demanded. “Has someone threatened you? Our contract will protect you from being transferred out of my department, Hermione. Master Warhide wrote an ironclad contract for us.”

“No, nothing like that, but I can expect things to change on that front rapidly. I don’t know that I’ll be able to hide it.” She frowned at her tea. “My father lied to me, Esmeralda. I’m a latent Guide, and I’m rapidly coming online because of Harry.”

“Son of a bitch,” Esmeralda muttered and pulled a flask out of her dress pocket. She doctored her tea with it. “I’m going to end up dueling Dumbledore before this is all said and done. I keep our contact at the bank to prevent anyone from interfering with it. Yesterday afternoon, he sent me a message suggesting that I fortify the contract so you can’t leave your job with me ever.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Fortification magic of that type is an international crime against magic, Esmeralda. It’s enslavement, and being found guilty of it is a life sentence in an ICW prison. How dare that bastard ask you to do something like that.”

“I know,” Esmeralda said. “I told him to suck my dick.” She took a big bite of her sandwich and groaned. “Perfect, lass.”

“Thanks.” Hermione shook her head and focused on her own food.

“Is that gorgeous, perfectly legitimate, man your Sentinel?”

“Merlin, I hope so,” Hermione muttered. “I want to climb him like a tree.” She paused when the older woman laughed. “I have materials from the Burton Foundation and a few books, but I don’t have a lot of time to learn, and I’m really worried about protecting myself empathically and magically.”

“Did you allow them to do a search for you?”

“I told them I wanted to wait until I came online,” Hermione said. “I don’t intend to do one in the Muggle world, at any rate. It wouldn’t ever work out. If Harry isn’t my Sentinel, then there is another wizard out there for me. Here’s hoping he hasn’t suppressed himself.”

“Or herself,” Esmeralda said.

“Yes, but it’s not often a female Sentinel takes a female Guide. I wouldn’t be opposed, but I’ve never been intimate with another woman,” Hermione said.

“And you’ve got your heart set.”

“Since I was twelve,” Hermione admitted and huffed as she snagged a biscuit and shoved it into her mouth.

“Men are a mess,” Esmeralda said. “I’ve had four husbands. I honestly don’t recommend it.”

Hermione laughed. “Your kids weren’t worth it?”

“Eh, these days, you don’t need to get married to have children. It’s just talked about instead of being borderline illegal.”

Hermione made a face. “Witch’s rights are still a nightmare in Britain. It’s awful to know how much worse it was in the past and how little things will change during my lifetime. It’s like the magical world is stuck.”

“It is stuck,” Esmeralda stood. “Stymied by bigotry, ignorance, and fear. The witch burnings and our eventual retreat into hiding did a number on all of us despite the fact that it’s in the distant past in most parts of the world.” She paused. “You know a man was burned at the stake for witchcraft in South America just six months ago before local authorities could prevent it.”

“Yes,” Hermione said with a frown. “It was awful and more so for the fact that he wasn’t magical at all.”

“The world is ultimately a very ugly place, and Britain is just one example of it,” Esmeralda said. “You should take the job that Hiro Ito is going to offer you whether you and Potter are compatible or not.”

Hermione nodded.

“Then I’ll retire to a villa in Tuscany and hire some handsome young Italian man to take care of my garden. We can still have tea once a week, and I’ll be thoroughly quit of all those motherfuckers I’ve worked with for over eighty years.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hermione murmured. “I know I’ve thanked you more than once for not retiring when you wanted so that you could mentor me, but I owe you so much.”

“I owed Minerva a life-altering sort of favor and she called it in for you,” Esmeralda said and grinned when Hermione huffed a little. “And she certainly did the right thing. So, you owe me nothing, but I’m pleased to have your friendship.”

* * * *

He should’ve known that Arthur Weasley would use his position to sneak Ron into the DOM for a conversation. He’d ignored Ron Weasley since he’d left Britain, and Harry wasn’t all that pleased to have him in his face. He leaned on the desk and said nothing as Arthur left them with a hesitant smile. Harry figured the older man knew that he’d made a mistake, but the damage was done.

“You haven’t ever answered any of my letters.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Every single letter you’ve sent me since I left Britain was hostile, verbally abusive, and often cruel. I wasn’t even allowed to read them until I was an adult. They were kept by ICW security, and I received the bulk of them when I was seventeen. I only read a few before accepting the summary of the contents security had provided as accurate. You came precariously close to meeting the burden to face criminal charges more than once. I’m sure you know that since your father was asked repeatedly to correct your behavior.”

Ron glared at him. “You never apologized to me.”

“For what?” Harry questioned. “You were pissed at me about that stupid tournament and accused me of cheating to get into it. They discovered years ago that Barty Crouch, Jr put my name in the Goblet of Fire. I don’t owe you an apology, and never did. You were a cruel child, and I doubt you’re a better adult.”

“You just left Britain, Harry! You just left like none of us even mattered and never responded to any of my letters. I couldn’t even write to you directly—I had to go through that stupid bank ward, and half of my letters got rejected. Then I was told I couldn’t write you at all because you didn’t want any contact with me.”

“You’re an arsehole,” Harry said frankly, and Ron gaped at him. “It’s difficult to think about our long-dead friendship and not realize just how awful you were, and I can’t expect that you’re a better adult since most wizards in Britain are dumb, sexist bastards. We have nothing in common, and there is no point in pretending otherwise. What could you possibly tell me in a letter that I’d want to know?”

“You were my best mate, and you just disappeared!”

“Yeah, okay, and?” Harry prodded. “Childhood friendships come and go, Ron. Plus, the last thing you said to me was disgusting. Do you even remember it?”

“I….” Ron flushed. “Everyone knows that Sentinels are primitive freaks. You should’ve let Dumbledore help you. But you stayed with the ICW instead of coming home. Mum said only dark wizards become War Mages.”

Harry made a face. “I don’t care what your mother thinks or says, Ron. She just parrots Dumbledore most of the time, and I want nothing to do with his ignorant and bigoted opinions. This meeting is a waste of time. We have nothing to talk about anymore. Why did you have your father ask for this? What’s your goal?”

“You should return to Britain, Harry. Your lack of loyalty to your own country is awful. You Know Who is back, and Dumbledore says that you’re important in the fight against him. Don’t you see that you owe us?”

“Owe?” Harry repeated. “I don’t owe anyone in this country a goddamned thing, Ron. Voldemort has been a problem for decades, long before I was ever born, and he murdered my parents because the British Ministry of Magic never truly tried to end the Death Eater threat. They probably won’t do any better this time around, either. At least Minister Bones had the sense to request international help since it’s the only way anything will get done.

“Also, for the record, I’m not a citizen of this wretched country. My home is Italy and has been since the day I could legally make it so.”

Ron glared at him. “So, none of us mean anything to you?”

“I kept in contact with the people that mattered,” Harry said evenly. “And you ceased to matter when your comfort was more important to you than my free will. What do you want?”

“You’re a selfish prick,” Ron muttered. “Why can’t you just do the right thing for once?”

“Why can’t you?” Harry asked in return. “What are you doing to help now that Voldemort has returned?”

“It’s not my department, I work in Muggle Relations,” Ron said sullenly. “I couldn’t get into the Auror Academy because of Hermione.”

“Because of Hermione?”

“Yeah, she stopped helping me with my schoolwork after you left. It was like I didn’t matter anymore to her. I didn’t have the scores or NEWTs to get into the academy that’s her fault.”

“It’s your fault,” Harry snapped. “Merlin, Ron, it’s not Hermione’s responsibility to make you learn how to be an adult. For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong with you?”

Ron flushed. “You both just abandoned me—left me alone to deal with everything while you went to Italy and started this big, famous life. You’re mentioned in the papers all the time—local and international. Hermione left Hogwarts with twelve bloody NEWTs and got a job in the Department of Mysteries without evening trying. McGonagall got her an apprenticeship before she even left Hogwarts.”

“And? Hermione is brilliant, Ron. She deserves all that she has and more. It’s not her fault you hated school and couldn’t be bothered to study.”

“I could get into the DMLE if you came back,” Ron blurted out. “Director Shacklebolt said he’d put me in the quick training program for aurors if you’d sign a contract for the Auror Corps.”

Harry laughed. “This conversation is over.”

“I need this, Harry! You need to stop being selfish and help me out for once.”

“You realize that Sentinel suppression spells are required in order to work for the DMLE here in Britain, right?” Harry demanded.

“Yeah, so what? You don’t need that shite, it’s useless.”

“Being a Sentinel isn’t useless,” Harry said mildly. “You’re dating Lavender Brown, right?”

“We’re engaged,” Ron muttered.

“Does she know you’re sleeping with at least two different women besides her?” Harry questioned, and Ron’s mouth dropped open. “Given a few hours, Ron, I could dismantle you’re whole little world with the gifts you think are useless. Do yourself a favor and stay out of my line of sight going forward. Right now, I can’t be bothered to make you miserable, but I could be motivated in that direction very quickly.”

“How do you know about my girlfriends?” Ron questioned with a frown.

“I can smell them on you,” Harry said. “Now fuck off before I get invested in ruining your life.”

Ron glared at him then left the room, slamming the door behind him. Lucas shimmered into his view as he ended the disillusionment magic built into their uniform.

“He didn’t even check to make sure you were alone in this room before entering,” Lucas said. “And considering your fractious past, that’s just stupid.”

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Harry said with a shrug and flicked his hand over the table as he turned back to the work.

They’d decided to customize one of the containers they had on hand for cursed and dark objects since half the work was done. The horcrux was complicated, more so for the rotting curse that had been attached along with a compulsion to wear it. Riddle clearly didn’t want anyone to survive finding the ring.

Lucas sat back down and started carving the metal rune array that normally sat at the bottom of the box. “Did you want to talk about what’s going on with Hermione?”

“I’ll start to fixate if I do,” Harry said. “I don’t want to push her, nor do I want to ignore our potential. But we’ll discuss it. Hermione’s never shied away from dealing with issues. She’s a head’s on kind of person.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Harry kind of wished Lucas was one of those men who ran from discussions regarding emotions. “I love her, and I can’t say it’s ever been platonic on my end of things, but I kept my distance because of the Sentinel issue. In truth, if she’d asked me to stay in Britain and suppress—I would’ve done it.”

Lucas exhaled sharply. “Well, fuck, Harry. That’s…I really hope she’s the one then. I can’t imagine how you’ll manage if she were to bond with anyone but you.”

The very idea was awful, so Harry pushed that thought aside completely.

* * * *

Basil had disappeared for an hour and had returned within two hours with a note from Harry. Hermione had often wondered if there was some quirk in Harry’s magic that made owls especially interested in pleasing him. Hiro Ito had apparently tasked Harry with Guide-sitting her, but she wasn’t especially irritated by the circumstances. She felt primed to come online, and after reading most of the day, Hermione was pretty convinced it was entirely Harry Potter’s fault.

Meditation was going to be a problem as she just couldn’t quiet or clear her mind. It was a ridiculous concept as far as she was concerned. Why would she waste time thinking about nothing? It was bad enough she had to sleep and that took way too much time. She’d been told, more than once, that resenting her body’s need for sleep was unreasonable, so she kept it to herself most of the time.

Hermione sprawled on her sofa and threw her feet up on the armrest as she stared at the ceiling. Crookshanks made a little startled growling sound, and she turned to find a large shadow moving across the wall. If she hadn’t been told to expect it, she’d have probably screamed bloody murder.

“It’s just my spirit animal, Crooks. It won’t hurt you.”

The shadow moved around the room—shapeless but very tangible at the same time. They’d asked her, at the Burton Foundation, what she thought her spirit animal was as part of the intake procedure. Apparently, it was common to know in advance. Hermione didn’t have a guess at all, as she’d never focused on that kind of self-reflection.

Crookshanks sprawled across her chest and purred loudly.

“I always thought if I had an animagus form, I would be a cat,” Hermione murmured and rubbed her familiar’s head. “We could run around together and get into trouble.” She laughed when Crookshanks rubbed his face against hers. “I see what you’re doing. I’ll always be your human, you know. You did great when we added Basil to the household, so I think you’ll be fine with my spirit animal.”

The shadow solidified, and Hermione exhaled slowly as she turned and stared into the eyes of a sabertooth tiger. She huffed a little, and the animal chuffed gently in return. She didn’t know if it was the magical version or not. At least it wasn’t a nundu because she knew herself well enough to know that such a thing was possible.

The spirit animal nuzzled Crookshanks; her head was as big as her familiar’s whole body. Fortunately, he took the attention and wiggled happily under the big cat’s chin, which made Hermione laugh.

“Harry’s spirit animal is a griffin,” Hermione said. “I’ve never seen him, but Harry told me that Kaz can be bossy, but he’s also huge, so I guess he can get away with being bossy. Who’s gonna argue with a griffin?” She reached out with trembling fingers and rubbed the spirit animal’s head. She buried her fingers in a tuft of dark red fur between the sabertooth’s ears. “How about Siobhan?”

The spirit animal nudged her shoulder, then walked to the fireplace and sprawled on the rug in front of it. Hermione stared at her, fingers curled into Crookshanks’ fur. She didn’t feel fully online, but the emergence of her spirit animal meant it was actively happening. Tears welled, and she closed her eyes.

“I had a plan, you know, and you weren’t a feature,” Hermione murmured. “I’m not complaining, exactly, but now I have to make a new plan.” She sat up and put Crookshanks down. “And I need a new journal. It’s the start of something new, so we should just start over, right?”

Siobhan yawned, drawing attention to her mouth.

“Your whole head is a nightmare,” Hermione said in amusement. “I’m going to the bookstore. I know it’s not fair, but it would be dangerous for me to be seen with you. Do you understand?”

Siobhan chuffed then shimmered away. Hermione stared in surprise because she could still feel the spirit animal. The magical version, then, she thought and nodded. She felt safer knowing that Siobhan wasn’t far from her, even if she couldn’t be seen. She grabbed a cloak, left the cottage, and apparated to Diagon Alley.

Hermione kept her hood up as she walked straight to Flourish and Blotts. Fortunately, no one stopped her. Many of her former peers work on Diagon Alley in some fashion or another and it was often difficult to get anywhere without having someone stop to brag about a marriage or offer her a squalling baby that she wasn’t entirely certain how to hold.

She’s grown up as an only child, and her cousins were her age or older, so she had no real experience with babies. That brought her up short, as she wondered if Harry was interested in having children. They’d never discussed that at all, as she avoided any conversation involving his future and any relationships he’d had since going to Rome. Perhaps that had been a mistake, as she had no idea if he was even dating anyone.

Once inside the bookstore, she picked out a new journal and bought a spell placard to attach to it. She’d tailor it eventually, but it saved time to have a foundation to build on and she wasn’t above using shortcuts. At the counter, she browsed the new publications and picked up two magazines.

“How are you this fine day, Miss Granger?”

“Well enough,” Hermione said and rubbed the back of her neck. “I took the day off due to a headache.”

“Well, things are bound to be stressful at the ministry,” Mr. Flourish said and shook his head. “Heard the ICW is here.”

“There’s an official visit in progress, but that’s above my pay grade,” Hermione said, and the older man laughed. “Still, everyone is on edge, as you can imagine.”

“Did you see that Effie Malcolm put out a new book on transfiguration?” Mr. Flourish questioned.

“No, I didn’t.” She looked around, and he put a copy of the book on the counter in front of her. “Can you send a copy to Headmistress McGonagall as well? Just add the cost to my bill.”

“I meant to send her a letter informing her of the publication since she hasn’t come by the store in months,” Mr. Flourish said. “I’ll see she gets it today. Would you like to send a note with it?”

“Just the standard gift note,” Hermione said. “And a donation bookplate, as it will certainly end up in Hogwarts’ library after she reads it.”

He pulled a bookplate from a drawer in the counter and presented it so she could sign it. Hermione took the quill that Stowe Flourish offered and signed the bookplate, which would be placed in the book. She’d donated over fifty books since leaving Hogwarts and was officially considered a patron of the school as a result. She wondered if her contributions would be honored in the future. The thought that they might not be was disheartening.

Hermione didn’t think Minerva McGonagall would have a problem with her new status, but there was no telling what the board of governors would think of her. The line of thought was extremely annoying.

“I heard that young Potter had returned to Britain as well,” Mr. Flourish said and pulled a book out from underneath the counter. “This isn’t something I advertise carrying, for obvious reasons, but you might want some reading material on the subject so you don’t misstep with your friend.”

She picked up the book. The Modern Magical Sentinel by René Massey. Hermione stared for a moment and cleared her throat. “Yes, I’ll take it, as well. Thank you for your discretion.”

“A lot of people will never forgive Dumbledore for what he tried to do to that boy,” Mr. Flourish said. “I’m one of them. Harry Potter deserved better from us—better from Britain. I’m disgusted, Miss Granger, by the events that led to him fleeing his own country for the purposes of safety. He should’ve been safe with us—especially after the sacrifices his parents made.”

Hermione added the book to her stack of purchases, and it was all quickly wrapped up in a package of brown paper and twine. It was one of the more charming aspects of shopping at Flourish and Blotts. She signed off the bank transaction and said her goodbyes.

Ron Weasley was leaning on the side of the building next to the door when she left. Things had been hostile for a very long time between them because she’d been loyal to Harry while Ron had just been focused on himself. He’d never really grown up, and it was awful.

“Have you talked to Harry?”

“Yes, of course I have,” Hermione said as she adjusted her cloak. She headed for the apparition point, and Ron walked with her. “Go away, Ron. I have a terrible headache and just want to go home to read a book in peace.”

“All you do is read.  You’re so freaking boring, Hermione. Did you get the invitation Lavender sent you? She said you hadn’t responded.”

“I haven’t had time,” Hermione said. “But I don’t have any interest in attending your wedding, much less the various activities around it. I’ll respond to her invitation when I get home.”

“It’d be easier for me if you’d just say yes,” Ron snapped. “Lavender thinks you avoid her because you’re jealous.”

Hermione laughed as she stepped into the apparition zone and turned to face Ron. “Please tell your future wife that I’ve never, ever had any romantic interest in you, Ronald. You’re lazy and dumb, she might find that attractive, but I don’t.”

He huffed at her. “Whatever, Hermione, you’ve never dated anyone seriously, and everyone knows you had a crush on me at Hogwarts.”

Hermione stared for a moment, then just apparated away without a word. There was no arguing with an idiot, and it had taken her years to accept that. She went to her floo because this was going to call for a conversation and threw floo powder.

“Ottery St Catchpole, The Burrow!”

Molly answered, and Hermione schooled her face to keep from glaring at the older woman. She couldn’t stand Molly Weasley, and the feeling was mutual. They both put a polite front for social reasons, but Molly blamed Hermione for the fact that Ron was a failure. They’d argued over the subject more than once, and the older woman was really unreasonable regarding her youngest children.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Weasley. Is Lavender home?”

“She is, yes. Just a moment, Miss Granger,” Molly said crisply and left the flames.

She sat back on her heels and waited. Lavender appeared very quickly.

“Hermione,” Lavender exclaimed. “You never floo me.”

“Well, you know I hate the floo. It’s awful,” she muttered, and Lavender laughed. “I saw Ron on the Alley, and he told me that you think I’m jealous of the two of you.”

“Oh, that’s not exactly what I said,” Lavender said and tilted her head a little with a small smile that was all too smug. “I just told him that you might be avoiding our wedding events because you aren’t dating anyone and have no prospects.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous, Lavender. I turn down dates once or twice a week,” Hermione said huffily. “Regardless, please make sure that idiot you’re marrying understands that I’m not jealous of him, and I never had a crush on him.”

Lavender laughed. “Ron thinks you had a crush on him?” She disappeared out of the flames with laughter, and Fleur Weasley took her place.

“Lavender is…laughing herself silly,” Fleur reported. “That fool thinks you had a crush on him? Does he not know you plotted his murder the whole time you were at Hogwarts?”

“Not the whole time!” Hermione huffed. “I never actually intended to do it, Fleur! But it was very stress relieving.” Lavender’s continued laughter in the background was annoying. “Gah, tell her that I’ll come over there and curse her!”

Fleur giggled. “We’ll tell Ronald that you never had a crush on him. Why are you at home?”

“I have a headache,” Hermione said. “And Ron made it worse just by being himself. I went to Alley to pick up some magazines and a new book. He just ruined the rest of my day with his…everything. His existence ruins my life, Fleur.”

“Did you want to come over for tea, Miss Granger?” Molly shouted from the background.

“You’re a great cook, Mrs. Weasley, but it’s not worth the risk of running into those two creatures you call your youngest children,” Hermione retorted. Fleur snorted, then covered her mouth. “Very un-French of you, Fleur.”

“I’ve been ruined by the pasty English family I married into,” Fleur announced and laughed when Mrs. Weasley gasped loudly in shock in the background. “Go have some tea, Hermione, and perhaps a nap. It will help your headache.”

“Fine, just rein that idiot in. I’m not in the mood to deal with his particular brand of stupidity. Also, Lav, I can’t come to your bridal shower. I can’t really explain why, but my work schedule is going to be heavy and unreasonable for weeks—perhaps months. I can’t make any commitments as a result.” She huffed a little when Lavender whined in the background. “I’ll send a gift.”

“Two!” Lavender exclaimed. “To make up for not coming.”

“Fine, whatever. Two gifts,” Hermione said and ended the call when they both laughed some more. Her spirit animal appeared and rubbed her whole body up against Hermione’s back, where she was still kneeling on the floor. “You are huge. It’s ridiculous. Why couldn’t you be a small, house cat sort of animal?”

Siobhan rubbed her head all over Hermione’s in response.

“I know you’re just marking me—it’s very territorial,” Hermione said. “And weird. What other spirit animal would try to claim me? I only get one, right? Afraid I’ll trade you in?”

Siobhan growled at her and knocked her over. Hermione laughed as she sprawled on the carpet, and the sabertooth lay down beside her. The spirit animal was three times her size, and she really wasn’t all that upset about it. She shifted around and propped herself up against the animal and summoned her book package where she’d dropped it.

The book on Sentinels she’d bought hadn’t been included in the resources she’d gotten from the Burton Foundation. But she’d been told about it and even had a form to order it from a magical bookstore in France.

 

 

Part 3

Harry entered the cottage hesitantly because he’d been told he could. Still, it wasn’t often that he just entered someone’s home without knocking. He put his bag down next to the door and shed his coat, which he hung up. A low growl caught his attention, and he watched a sabertooth tiger come into the living room. He stared for a moment, then inclined his head before nodding.

The big cat yawned and stretched its big body before walking across the room. It rubbed against his leg and prodded his hand until he rubbed its head. “Demanding, huh?”

“I named her Siobhan.”

He looked up and found Hermione lingering in the entryway leading to the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. “How are you?”

“Far too ignorant of my circumstances to feel any sort of normal,” Hermione admitted. “I’ve read through all of the pamphlets and stuff from the Burton Foundation. I went to Flourish and Blotts, and he sold me a book about Sentinels because he heard that you were here. He didn’t want me to misstep with my friend.”

Harry nodded. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “The lack of information is galling, and I’m still fixated on my father’s actions. I want to go back over there and curse him out, but it wouldn’t do any good. His bigotry could’ve gotten me killed or permanently institutionalized. He doesn’t seem to give a single fuck about that.”

“I wish I could fix this situation for you,” Harry confessed. He was furious with her father and probably doing a poor job of hiding it. “Hungry? I got some takeaway.” He pulled the bag from his dimensional storage. “Just some roast beef sandwiches.”

“Sounds great. I was standing in the kitchen trying to figure out what I could talk myself into cooking and came up with nothing.” She motioned him toward the coffee table. “Let’s just eat here. How was work?”

“Lucas and I focused on building a containment system for the horcrux we’ve found under the expectation that we’ll find more. We’re also setting up a cleansing ritual space at the bank since Master Ito thinks we’re going to need to cleanse daily going forward. He’s very focused on protecting the integrity of an individual’s magic.”

She took the bag and removed the sandwiches, a large bag of crisps, and two bottles of water. “You went into London for this?”

“There’s a Sentinel safe café not far from the Alley,” Harry explained. “We always get a list of restaurants I can eat safely when we’re on a mission. Of course, I have rations as well in my dimensional storage.” He paused. “I noticed you aren’t wearing the bracelet I sent you for Yule last year. Did you not like it? Because I could’ve returned it to get a different one if the style didn’t suit you.”

“I love it and you always do a great job of matching with my wardrobe. I’m not wearing it because it’s illegal in Britain, Harry,” Hermione said.

“What?” Harry made a face. “Are you serious?”

“The Wizengamot went so far as to outlaw wand holsters that can hold more than two items,” she continued and shook her head as she unwrapped her sandwich. “It wouldn’t apply to you or your team since you’re visiting dignitaries. The whole thing is about import and export tariffs. There’s a whole little political trade war between France and Britain right now.”

“I hate politics and avoid that shite as much as possible,” Harry admitted and opened his water. “Hermione, will you come to Rome?”

She smoothed down the paper wrapper she was using as a plate for her sandwich and cleared her throat. “I won’t be safe here, Harry. Esmeralda told me that I should accept the job that Master Ito is going to offer me. Everything will change, and I’m not ashamed to admit that it scares me. My life hasn’t been perfect, but I did find some comfort in the routine I created for myself.”

“You don’t have to take a job with the ICW,” Harry said. “You could go to the International Academy of Magic in Rome if you wanted. They would certainly accept you. If money is a concern, don’t let it be. I have plenty.”

Hermione flushed. “I can’t live off of you, Harry.”

“Of course you can,” Harry said and shrugged when she huffed. “Six or seven times over, and it wouldn’t make a dent in what I inherited. But if you want to work for the ICW, I support that as well.” He paused. “But I really…. I think working for the Protectorate would break your heart.”

“I wouldn’t,” Hermione said and shook her head. “We can sell this cottage since living here won’t be an option for me going forward. Esmeralda said she was going to retire to Tuscany and hire some pretty Italian man to tend her garden.”

Harry grinned. “She’ll have no problem doing that. What about you? What would be your goals in Italy?”

Hermione flushed and shrugged. “I guess it depends on what happens between you and me. Did you want to avoid talking about it or just get it all out in the open?”

“Avoidance never works out for me,” Harry admitted. “I don’t want to pressure you for anything, Hermione. I’ve gone a long time without a Guide, and part of me wonders if you’d have come online if I’d stayed close to you. That kind of thinking will just make me resent myself and my past decisions, which isn’t healthy.”

“You made the best choices you could, Harry, and protecting yourself was very important. Things are different now, of course, and Dumbledore has no power over you. He wishes that wasn’t the case, but we’re both beyond caring what that old bastard wants.” She motioned to his food. “Finish your sandwich then we’ll have the conversation we’re both clearly afraid of.”

Harry huffed a little but focused on his sandwich because he was afraid of it, and that wasn’t a circumstance he had to face often. Fear wasn’t foreign to him, but he’d learned, over the years, to manage it to the point where he could put it aside entirely when the work required.

“I’m not afraid of you, Miss Granger.”

“As you say, Mr. Potter,” Hermione said and quirked an eyebrow when he laughed.

He looked down at his food. “This is an odd thing to know about myself—but I get most of my socialization during meals.”

Hermione hummed under her breath. “Me, too, actually. I eat lunch with Esmeralda or sometimes I get press-ganged into going out with Lavender and her vapid friends to have dinner. I only go because they’re distracting and sometimes unintentionally entertaining. Though, I often come home feeling guilty because mostly they amuse me because I think they’re dumb.”

Harry shrugged. “Everyone has a purpose. There are dumb people everywhere, unfortunately. I’ve been told it’s rude to tell them they’re dumb. But I feel like not telling them is a disservice. They run around, not knowing they’re dumb, and get into trouble as a result. Wouldn’t it be better to tell them?”

Hermione grinned at him. “Seems like it would be.”

He finished his sandwich and sat back with his water to watch her. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even in your sleep,” Harry said, and she smiled. “You can say anything to me, you know.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Nah,” Harry said and shrugged when she raised an eyebrow. “I have a few…arrangements, but it’s rare to encounter someone willing to take a real risk on an unbonded Sentinel. Plenty of people, male and female, are eager for sex but never for romance.”

“That sounds kind of lonely,” Hermione said.

“It’s my reality,” Harry said with a shrug. “Lying about my status would be unethical. Also, it would be impossible in the magical world as I’m very well known.”

She gathered up the wrappers from their food and shoved it all back in the bag then stood. “Yes, well, I guess the silver lining in that is that you won’t have to toss aside a family when your Guide comes along.”

Harry winced and rolled to his feet as she left the room. He followed her into the kitchen. “Do you suppose I would?”

“I’d like to think you’re better than that,” Hermione admitted. “But there are instincts at play, right? You’d not be able to deny a very compatible Guide.”

“I’m comfortable with my place in this world, Hermione, but if I’d come online later in my life…. I would’ve suppressed it all rather than walk away from a wife and children. It’s not even a question.”

She tossed their trash in a bin tucked into a cabinet with a nod and started to walk past him. Harry caught her arm gently and pulled her close.

“Your heart is racing.”

“Stop spying on my body,” Hermione responded, and he laughed.

She let one hand rest on his chest, and Harry took a deep breath.

“I can’t help but gather that kind of information,” Harry admitted. “It’s a mixture of training and instinct. Tell me what concerns you.”

“When did you get bossy?”

“When you got evasive,” Harry said evenly, and her eyes widened slightly. “Talk to me.”

Hermione’s fingers curled against his shirt, and she wet her lips. “Harry.”

“Why are you hesitating?” Harry questioned. “You’ve been telling me basically everything since you were eleven years old.”

“Yeah, you know things about me that….” She huffed. “I wouldn’t tell a man I was going to date half the things you know about me. Sometimes, I wonder how strong our friendship is. Can it survive this if things don’t go well?”

“I never want to know a single day where you aren’t my very dear friend,” Harry murmured, and he pulled her closer. Her breath caught, and he barely refrained from using his senses to fully investigate her physical response to him.

“I need you to be the brave one,” Hermione confessed in a rush.

Harry stared for a moment and smiled then. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and I’d rather give up being a Sentinel than not have you.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Harry Potter.”

“And the idea of you bonding with any Sentinel but me is infuriating,” Harry confessed. “Which makes me doubt myself because I want you to be happy, but I want you to be happy with me. It’s selfish, unreasonable, and the exact opposite of who I believe myself to be.”

“I’ve spent years being unspeakably jealous of your future Guide,” Hermione murmured. “I knew they would be more important than me. That’s the way it should be.”

Harry stared at her face for a long moment, then gave in and kissed her. She lifted up into the kiss and threw her arms around his neck. The kiss was everything he thought it would be, and the taste of her sent a shudder of want through him. He let his hands drop to her hips as the kiss deepened.

She trembled against him, and Harry lifted his head.

“Mi,” he murmured against her cheek, and she took in a ragged breath. “Can we have this?”

“Yes.” She stroked his beard with a steady hand. “How are you getting away with this beard?”

He grinned. “I look like a boy without it, so I had a softening charm implanted in a runic tattoo under my jawline. It’s invisible without revealing magic.”

She let her hand rest on his chest again as she stared. “You should take me to bed.”

“Should I?” Harry questioned as he tried to tamp down his excitement at the prospect. “We shouldn’t talk about it?”

“Talking is overrated.”

“Something I never, ever would’ve expected to come out of your mouth,” Harry said wryly. “Why don’t you take me to bed instead.”

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. “It is my bed.”

She took his hand and pulled him from the kitchen, through the cottage, and into her bedroom. Crookshanks dropped down out of a cat tree by the window and trotted out of the room with a yowl of displeasure.

“He doesn’t like to share,” Hermione said.

“The room or you?” Harry asked in amusement and pulled her close when she turned to face him.

“The room, but it did take him a while to get used to Basil. He fell asleep on top of Siobhan earlier.” She curled her fingers into the front of his trousers and pulled him in. “Come here.”

He cupped the back of her head and kissed her gently, then let his forehead rest on hers. “You must have applied some heavy dampening spells.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione questioned.

“Your spirit animal has fully manifested, Mi. You’re online.”

Her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath as she stepped away from him. Hermione pulled her wand and swirled it gently in front of her with a murmured spell. He knew it well, as he’d often used the same spell to create his own psionic shield. Her empathy bloomed around them, and psionic energy surged up inside of him in response. The desire to shelter and protect her was so immense that it made him dizzy.

Harry reached out for her with a trembling hand. Hermione holstered her wand, took his hand and they both stared in stunned silence.

“Sentinel,” she murmured.

“Guide,” he said and pulled her carefully to him. She practically glided into his arms and sought a kiss.

Harry felt like he was starving, and her eager mouth against his was agonizingly perfect. Her hands clenched in his waistcoat as she tugged at his clothes. He unbuttoned the waistcoat and shrugged out of it as he broke the kiss.

“Can I have you?” Harry questioned. “Forever.”

Hermione wet her lips as she stared at him then she slowly nodded. “Yes, forever.” She pulled her jumper over her head and tossed it aside.

He pulled the lace and silk camisole over her head and dropped it on the floor. Harry cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb across her nipple. The relatively simple touch was so intoxicating that he could’ve gotten lost in it had Hermione not covered her hand with his. He focused on her face and saw amusement and acceptance shining in her eyes in equal measure.

“You’re making a very good impression of an untried boy, Harry Potter.”

“I’m anything but,” Harry murmured. “I hope you aren’t asking for a body count. It’d probably depress the hell out of us both.”

Hermione hooked her fingers into his belt and unbuckled it with a grin. “I won’t ask if you won’t.” She wet her lips and pulled the leather free. “But most people aren’t all that chatty at this point in an encounter.”

He hummed under his breath as he unfastened her trousers and prodded them down her legs. Hermione kicked the trousers off, tossed her socks away, and slid up onto the bed. He shed his own clothes as quickly as he could and focused on her. She leaned back on her hands and stared back at him.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I was surprised when you told me that your spirit animal is a griffin. I was fully prepared for it to be a dragon.”

Harry grinned at her and nudged her legs open. Her head fell back as he leaned down and kissed her. Her skin was warm and soft under his hands as he stroked her back. Her own hands were drifting down his thighs in a way that was very distracting. He snagged the sides of her knickers, and she lifted up so he could pull them down and off.

She pulled at him, sliding up on the bed, and he followed easily. Hermione spread her legs and shivered when he crawled over her.

“Harry.” She cupped the back of his head as they kissed.

“You’re delicious,” Harry murmured. “I’ve always been told that my Guide would be a perfect balm to my senses. I don’t know that I believed it, until now.”

“I was told that Sentinels are incredibly biased regarding their Guide,” Hermione said in amusement.

She stretched out underneath him as he kissed her jaw, then meandered downward to lick and suck her nipples. Hermione loved it, but few men were prepared to dedicate any time to the activity unless they had some kind of fetish. But she couldn’t expect it from Harry in their current circumstances as she knew he was being driven by instinct to imprint all of his senses.

Harry moved down after long moments dedicated to her breasts, and she took a deep breath as he spread her legs. He licked her pussy, and Hermione arched up off the bed with a soft groan. She buried her hand in his hair and clenched just a little as he licked and sucked her clit. It had been an age since she’d had a partner, so she knew she was going to come fast enough to make a man smug.

She shook through an orgasm and all but melted on the bed. Harry responded by placing a soft, sweet kiss against her mons and inhaling deeply.

“I adore you,” Harry murmured as he moved back up and settled between her thighs. “It’s a dream come true to be here with you like this, Mi.”

“It’s amazing,” Hermione admitted. “Have you already imprinted?”

“It happened pretty fast,” he said and let a small bit of his weight rest on her body. “There is work to be done on it, but it can wait. I just want to be here with you right now.”

His cock was pressed against her stomach—which was exciting since he was thick and long. She couldn’t wait to have him inside of her.

“Yeah,” she agreed and touched his face carefully. “I’m sorry I don’t know enough about any of this to be useful to you.”

“We’ll be fine. We always are,” Harry murmured.

There was a soft push between them, and she realized that he was reaching out to her psionically, but it didn’t appear or feel to be purposeful on Harry’s part. Hermione had read about empathic bonding but hadn’t even learned to meditate. It was worrisome, but she knew their kind had been coming together and bonding long before the Burton Foundation, before procedures, before books had been written.

She reached out to him in a way she couldn’t have explained in a million years, and his eyes widened in shock. He relaxed against her and buried his face against her neck as the bond settled between them. It was so easy and sweet that tears welled in her eyes as she wrapped herself around him physically and emotionally. She knew, then, what it meant to shelter a Sentinel.

Harry moved, shifting against her until he could press his cock into her. Hermione arched into the penetration with a groan.

“This is what you want,” Harry said.

“Yeah, exactly this,” Hermione agreed and rolled her hips up against him eagerly. “Fuck me.”

He filled her so perfectly that it took her breath. Every single thrust of his cock into her body was so good that it was driving her right over the edge into another orgasm. Harry ground against her and groaned softly. The knowledge that he was finding such pleasure with her was such a turn-on that she tumbled right over into another orgasm. Her pussy gushed wet, and Harry shuddered as he came with her.

“I’m willing to raze this whole country,” Harry muttered. “So, we can leave as soon as possible.”

Hermione laughed and rubbed his back gently.

“You laugh, but I’m serious,” Harry said and rolled them over so she was sprawled across his chest, his cock still snug inside of her. He rubbed back and exhaled slowly. “Stay like this a moment.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Hermione said and smiled when he laughed. “I didn’t think it would be that easy to bond.”

“I think, sometimes, we’ve let mundanes influence us too much. Their morals and laws don’t always serve our kind if I’m honest. At least we don’t have contracts or bonding endowments these days.”

“Well, marriage contracts are still very much a thing,” Hermione said and raised an eyebrow at him. “What if I want one?”

“You can have anything you want,” Harry said quietly, and she laughed. “I mean it.”

“What if I want something crazy?”

“You never want anything crazy, illegal, or even unreasonable,” Harry murmured. “It’s always been a comfort to me that I can trust you to be a very good person nearly all the time.”

“Nearly?” Hermione questioned with wide eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, Harry James?”

“Well, you did set a teacher on fire,” Harry said. “On purpose, and you enjoyed it.”

“Oh, that,” Hermione said huffily and sat up. She braced herself on his chest as she pulled off his cock and stared down at his very attractive face. “Snape had it coming, and having your back is always going to come first, Harry, no matter what I have to do.”

“That’s a deal,” Harry murmured and cupped her hips as he sat up. He kissed her mouth gently. “I won’t really raze the country—I’m just willing to do it.”

Hermione grinned at him. “I know.”

“Tom Riddle has no idea what I am or how I operate,” Harry said. “My whole existence is a foreign circumstance to him. The magic that was done to resurrect him is flimsy, and deconstructing him will be the work of a few spells. I hope to find his horcruxes, destroy his shell, and leave the whole situation behind within the next three months.”

“That’s fast,” Hermione said. “What if it takes longer?”

“My attitude problem will get its own postal code,” Harry responded, and Hermione laughed. “And I’ll make people really regret it. His own followers will turn him in out of fear of me.” He rubbed her back. “I’ll keep you safe. Tom Riddle won’t ever get the chance to take another member of my family from me.”

“I’ve been practicing my combat spells on the sly,” Hermione confessed, and Harry grinned. “And my fire-starting spell is still aggressively on point.”

“That’s my girl,” Harry murmured and kissed her gently.

The End