Author's Note: This chapter is one that I've planned for quite sometime, save the last scene which the muse surprised me with. It's also the chapter that made me decide that I will never write another story with a ten point of view a chapter structure. It just takes too long and there is too much shifting to get into each character's head. Future stories might have longer or shorter chapters, but they will have lesser points of view a chapter. One more full chapter to go on this one.

Chapter Eight Two

Dean was rather early to Flourish and Blots. Part of that was due to his particular arrangements, which required him to be on the tube at 0523, having been dropped off at Chorleywood by his father. This was not actually considered optimal by his parents, but both of them had to go to work today. He'd been met up by Seamus at Moorgate, where they'd headed down to Bank, and the walk to the Leaky Cauldron.

So sun was just coming through the alley to hit the promotional poster announcing the signing for Letters to the Boy Who Lived: And His Replies to Ginny. By Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter. Edited by Ron Weasley. The painting was his third commission for the project, the first being the cover with Hedwig flying away from Ginny, and the second being the back with Hedwig landing on Harry's arm delivering Ginny's letter on a moonlight night. This one was actually one of the discards from his attempts at a cover.

The original intention was a wrap around cover, with each writer on a side. Of course he'd made a mistake starting it, placing Harry on the right, before realizing that it would have put Harry on the front, but for a promotional poster, it worked. He wasn't going to tell the publisher that it had been a discard, either. He'd gotten Harry very well, with his pensive gaze as his quill tickled his upper lip, with the roll of parchment before him with the carefully imitated last few paragraphs of Harry's first response to Ginny just visible along with the dot of ink caused by Harry's indecision as to how to close the letter. Ginny wasn't as faithful to reality, mainly because his memory of her was rather old when he started it, and she'd grown quite a bit since then.

They'd been rather artful with the text, announcing that starting at nine thirty until two, with a break at eleven thirty for lunch, there would be a signing of the books by the authors. "That's one big painting, Thomas," Seamus said as he put his arm around Dean's shoulders.

"It's nothing compared to the one I painted for my sister's room, Finnigan," Dean replied. "Come on, we've got too much time before the stores open, so let's go back to Leaky and see if we can get a second breakfast."

"You ate at four. I ate at six thirty, but we are growing boys, so why not?"

It was half past nine, and Sally-Anne was enjoying a rare time in the back room of her favorite shop in Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts. It wasn't because she was a bookworm, by any fashion. Though she loved to spin a yarn, reading it wasn't her thing. It was because her aunt Marian was the manager, and was quite willing to help her with her story telling craft. Oral history and storytelling were almost as important as the written word, according to Marian, especially if you could use it as a hook to sell. At the moment, though, she was readying things for Harry and Ginny's book signing.

Sally-Anne had the misfortune to be right next to the door to the back of Flourish and Blotts when a blonde man dressed in flamboyant flashy robes strode past her into the back. "It is I, Glideroy Lockhart, and I am here to sign my books. Where might I find my table to greet my adoring fans?" The door impacted Sally-Anne's shoulder, causing her to stumble into a stack of crates full of Hogwarts textbooks.

"Not here, not today," Aunt Marian said firmly. "Your signing has been scheduled for next week. Perhaps you didn't get the owl. Are you okay, Sally-Anne. I warned you about that door."

"How could you not schedule me, a multi-best selling author, on the date of the debut of my next best selling work?" Lockhart said as Sally-Anne straightened back up. "I simply could not believe the owl."

"Believe it," the manager said firmly. "And I doubt it will. Pre-orders of Letters to the Boy-Who-Lived are already past twice Magical Me. With the Hogwarts book list having come out last week, I'm sure it that many of their classmates will pick it up."

"But I'm announcing that I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor today at the signing," Lockhart said. "Surely being on the booklist and that will boost sales."

"You're not going to have a signing here, today, Lockhart," the manager said. "I'm not going to push aside the writers of the best selling book this week, whose parents and guardians could only agree to let them do this day. You're next week. If you want tomorrow, I have an opening then as well. Otherwise I will see you then, or not, if you want to make a big scene that forces me to call the aurors."

"You will regret this!" Lockhart said, before turning and plowing through the door.

It caught Sally-Anne on the backswing.

Ginny Weasley did not believe she was anything special, really. She knew that Harry didn't believe he was either, though at time she wondered. She was the little girl from Devon, seven of seven, the lone girl. Her brothers were curse-breakers, dragon-tamers, and prefects. It seemed like all of her brothers were destined for greatness, at least in anyway that she thought of things. She was sheltered, and knew it. There was a big wide world that she was just beginning to be exposed to.

There was Hogwarts, where she would soon be sorted, a Gryffindor, she was sure, and Diagon Alley, but that wasn't all the world that she'd seen. She'd been to Crawley, and seen the muggle world, with all of its hustle and bustle. Hermione had said it was a new town, making her wonder what a city would be like. Harry and Hermione were taking her for shopping in the muggle world and a late meal after the signing.

Ginny looked down at the table she was at, just to Harry's right. They'd gotten special quills for the signing, provided by the publisher, a very full bottle of ink. There were three bottles of the deep green signing ink that had been chosen available if either of them ran out. Ginny figured that she wouldn't. Everyone would want to get Harry's signature. He was the boy who lived.

"Scared?" Harry sudden asked. Ginny nodded. "Same. I've never seen such a line. I never thought I'd be getting this as the freak living in the cupboard under the stairs."

Ginny remembered when he'd first revealed that to her in a letter. He'd poured out his life before Hogwarts to her. She was still getting at least a weekly letter, usually outlining the milestones that James had, and other things. This was a day they'd both remember, Ginny was sure of that. This was the day when they stepped out into the world and set themselves on paths away from the isolation that had been the pattern of their lives.

Ginny saw Harry take a deep breath. "Ready?" Ginny nodded. Then Sally-Anne opened the door for her Aunt Marian. The horde descended on the signing table, barely contained by the ropes. Fortunately Dean and Seamus immediately stepped up, making sure that the table itself was not rushed. But still, the crowd, the line, grew large, switch backing between the rows of bookcases.

The first one line, to Ginny's great surprise was a familiar face. Ginny would recognize her blond hair and silvery eyes anywhere. Luna Lovegood stepped right up to Ginny first and put the book down in front of her. Somehow no one stepped around her to go directly to Harry. "Hello, Ginny. I see you got your wish to sit down next to Harry Potter." The book was slid, open to the title page, ready to sign, right in front of her. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

"You were in Norway with your father chasing down Snorkacks," Ginny dismised. "You're still my best friend, even if your father keeps taking on all these trips, and I'm stuck in Devon."

"Oh, you're going a lot farther than I am," Luna said. "Just sign it like you do my letters."

Ginny quickly personalized this, the first book she'd signed, "To my best friend Luna, Ginny Weasley." It was signed clear, readable, just like she had practiced.

Then Harry slid the book over to him, and added his own signature, setting the pattern for the day.

Harry was glad that he was seated with Ginny, and not doing this signing on his own. He didn't think that he could have done it on his own, and he was sure that he couldn't have written the book on his own. When he first heard of the idea to publish the letters it had taken him a great deal of time before he'd decided to do so. He had bared his life out to Ginny. Somehow her questions had drawn out thoughts that he'd never realized he had, and things that he'd never thought he would ever tell.

He wished he could be just Harry, but he would never be, not since the day that Voldemort had killed his parents. The realization he couldn't hide in the background anymore had been gradual. He wasn't quite sure when it happened. It might have been when he got on the Quidditch Team. Or it could have been when he found out that he was going to be a father. Harry was still learning what that meant. Monty Granger told him that he was still learning what that meant, and Hermione would be thirteen in September.

Harry reminded himself that he needed to make sure to get something for Hermione's birthday before they left the bookstore. He had the list she'd given her parents a couple days ago at their request, not knowing that Harry was in on it. He looked across the room between signatures, and spotted Hermione with Jimmy in a sling against her chest, a book in her free hand. Jimmy looked to be asleep at the moment.

There was another attempt of someone trying to skip having Ginny sign the book. Harry pushed the book back to Ginny. "No skipping," Harry said, firmly, deliberately turning his head away from the man who tried to pass in favor of the little girl that had proceeded him, and was holding his hand. "So, what is your name?" he asked.

"Demelza," the girl said, her grin revealing a missing left central upper incisor. Her reddish brown hair wasn't as near as outstanding as Ginny's red, but she was a cute little girl with her twin pigtails, as she sort of stepped slightly behind her companion.

"Can you spell that for my friend Ginny?" Harry asked, as Ginny dipped the quill into the ink bottle again. "She signs everything first, and wants to see more brave girls you and she are."

The girl stepped back around. "Dee E Em E El Zed A," she said, with just a hint of a lisp due to her missing tooth. It was obvious to Harry that he'd just thwarted the girl's companion's plans, but the big smile on the girl's face was worth it.

"I hope you enjoy the book, Demelza," Harry said, once the book was passed back to him. "Maybe someday we'll see you at Hogwarts in our house." He signed it carefully, making sure that he fit closely to Ginny's signature, so it couldn't be easily removed. Then he handed the still open book to Demelza. It was a good thing the ink was fast drying, as the girl quickly closed it and held it up against her chest as if it was the most precious thing to her in the world.

It wasn't the first time Harry had seen a girl do that, in fact a lot of the children, some even older than Harry, had held their signed book close. He wasn't quite sure what to think about that, but he was sure that he had made Demelza's day, and did something that her companion didn't like.

The next person in line greatly surprised him, "Professor Dumbledore?" Harry exclaimed, as the book was slid in front of him. He'd expected McGonagall, who had been among the first in line, and probably should have expected Madam Pince, who just happened to be next in line after Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid that I have been – shanghaied by Madam Pince for her annual restocking trip. I suspect that I am going to have to pack and have Fawkes take many heavy loads with me back to Hogwarts." Then he leaned close to Harry and whispered, "They're running out of ways to get me out of Hogwarts for my birthday."

"Happy Birthday Professor," Harry replied. "How do you want your copy inscribed?"

"Just your name will be enough, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "It will be my bedtime reading tonight."

"I'm not sure it's best for that," Harry said, as he added 'Happy Birthday' next to where Ginny had addressed it as 'Professor' before signing his full name under hers. "I will see you at Hogwarts, Professor." He said as he handed the book back to his Headmaster.

Ron Weasley was the student chess champion of Hogwarts. He'd been playing chess since he was two. There were exactly three people he knew could regularly challenge him, his parents, and Professor McGonagall. He'd heard that Draco Malfoy was trying to learn to play better, and had challenged him a few times. He'd been disappointed. Though he'd also found why Draco was trying to learn to play better and today he was about to meet that reason at the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley.

He spotted Draco first, that particular shade of blond was as recognizable as Ron's Weasley red. On Draco's right was another blond girl who was maybe a couple years younger than Ginny. Ron knew that wasn't his opponent. It was certain that the girl was related to Draco, but somehow the red shirt with a black inscription of "She canna take it anymore" didn't say chess genius. So he shifted his gaze to Draco's other side and discovered a hyperactive girl with the same hair as the others, but wearing a classic queen's crown, like that found on any set of wizarding chess figures.

Ron judged the girl to be maybe four, but just barely. It looked like his opponent had spotted the chess set that was set up on the table in front of him, and shook loose of Draco's hand. He saw Draco's sort of exasperated smile, as what had to be his youngest sister skipped over to the open chair. Behind them was Victoria Malfoy, holding her baby, and Journeyman Ollivander, whose arm was around her shoulders, lending proof to the rumor that the two were an item.

"You're letting me start out as white?" the little girl said, as she clambered into the chair opposite Ron.

"You're supposed to be introduced first, little queen," Draco said, catching up and putting a hand on his little sister's right shoulder. "Ronald Weasley, this is my currently youngest half-sister, Judith Malfoy, the second best chess player in the family, daughter of Grandmaster Malfoy. Judith, this is Ronald Weasley, the son of Grandmaster Arthur Weasley." Draco looked down at his littlest sister, his gaze conveying orders.

"P'eased to meet ya, Ronald," Judith said, holding out her hand.

"Pleased to meet you as well Judith," Ron said. "You can call me Ron. I have a feeling that we're going to end up meeting over a chess board a lot in the future as we plot to figure out how to beat our Grandmaster parents."

"Call me Jude," Judith replied. "You're really going to play me a lot? People don't let me play them a lot after I beat them."

"We'll see if you can beat me," Ron replied. "Draco, I don't believe I've met the other young lady at your side."

"Oh, this is Juliet Malfoy, my other younger half-sister," Draco said. "She'll be starting Hogwarts in a couple years. She and Mother Erlene are taking me on a tour of Muggle London later today, and needed to get out of the house before her twin brother drove her nuts."

"Call me Julie," the nine-year-old said.

"Ron," Ron replied, noticing that Jude had made her move already. He responded, and continued. "I hope your twin brother is not like my twin brothers, though I understand he's your twin, but younger, where mine are a par in themselves."

"Trust me, Weasley, Jupiter is not in their league, he's in one of his own," Draco said. "This morning he woke me up by jumping on my bed, naked, after having already done the same to Julie, and then went across the hall to wake up Victoria. This, of course earned him eternal damnation as he also jarred Patrick Draco's crib, who Victoria had apparently just gotten back to sleep. I think he's still too used to ... oh no, she's caught you."

Ron had played through two more moves while Draco had been talking, and knew exactly what tactic Jude Malfoy was after. It had been e4, e5, Nf3, Nc6, and now Bb5. He moved a6, starting the Morphy Defense as the book that Hermione had gotten him for his birthday had called it. Jude replied with Ba4, and he replied with Nf6, and he saw Jude's expression as puzzled. It appeared that he'd given her something she hadn't seen.

Fifteen minutes later, Jude tipped over her king. "Good game, Master Weasley," she said carefully, offering her hand to shake. Ron reached out and shook her hand. "I hope to play you again."

"And I do too," Ron replied. "If nothing else, we can try by owl once I get back to Hogwarts."

Hermione was very glad that her parents were willing to let Harry bake his pies any time he wanted to. They were all divine, but especially the cherry pies. A slice of pie with a scoop of extra creamy vanilla ice cream was a perfect late night snack for when Jimmy woke her up.

Not that Jimmy woke her up as much as he had been. He was mostly sleeping through the night now, but now and again he'd decide to wake up hungry at two in the morning. It had turned out that Harry couldn't sleep through Jimmy's crying any more than Hermione could, so quite often Hermione had found a tray with the aforementioned slice of pie, a tall glass of milk arriving just as Jimmy started to suckle from her breast.

"You don't have to Harry," Hermione made her usual protest.

"Yes, I do," Harry replied. "Without your glass of milk, you're no more likely to get back to sleep before morning than Jimmy would without his mother's milk."

He was right. Plus, you did not turn down Harry Potter's cherry pie. It did not take long for Jimmy to get his fill of mother's milk, be burped, and settle back down in his crib. As usual afterwards, Hermione found Harry seated at the bottom of her bed as she sipped her tall glass of milk.

"So, Harry, what did you think of book signing?" Hermione asked.

"I will never complain about the required length of one of Snape's essays again," he said, his hand rubbing his wrist. "I'm sure that I'm developing one of those repetitive stress injuries one of your father's friends was talking about last week."

"Professor Snape," Hermione reminded. "And you can't have signed that many books."

"Four hundred sixty-one," Harry said. "I counted, and made sure that none of them have just my signature on them. There is only on like that, and it's in your bookcase."

"Actually, not any more," Hermione said. "I had Ginny sign it. You were right that it's not right that all those people just wanted your signature because of your mother's sacrifice."

"You know, I wasn't quite sure that I wanted to do this book at first. It kind of felt like I was cashing in on my parents' sacrifice," Harry said softly, softer than was required to keep Jimmy quiet and on his path toward sleep. "Sometimes I'm still not sure, but you were right that I needed to tell my side, even if it hurt a little. I want to be known for being Harry, not some hero, even if I am one to some people. I want to be able to grow up, to raise Jimmy with you, and be ... me."

"I know Harry," Hermione said, and for the first time she moved close and started the kiss herself, right on the lips. Their lips parted just a little as their bodies touched, his hand sliding against her back, as hers felt up his growing muscles in his upper arms.

The next morning they would wake up in that embrace on her bed. Her full bare breasts were pressed against his bare chest, the scars barely visible in the early morning sun.

Neville Longbottom had spent weeks getting to know his parents, but he'd found out that it was indeed possible to want to get the heck away from both of them. It was almost to the point that his hair was more of a mess than both Harry and Hermione's. If it wasn't his father's quest to get back into shape, and make sure Neville was in just as good or better shape, then it was his mother's drive to see that her son was totally ready for his second year at Hogwarts while still trying to keep him with her by her constant hugs. Add to that his father's obsession with certain muggle bands that he liked to play at full volume, and worse than that, his mother's constant displays of affection with his father. She'd actually started to take off her robe once, before realizing that Neville was in the breakfast nook doing his Summer Charms assignment.

He'd hoped that his birthday would help them realize that he wasn't a toddler anymore that required their constant supervision. Mum had nearly ruined some flowers in his greenhouse by her irrational belief that he was going to hurt himself repotting his dragonsnaps into a much bigger pot. Okay, the pot was big, but it wasn't like he was stupid enough to use a pot that wasn't charmed. He'd been repotting dragonsnaps since he was six! It was easy, nothing like mandrake, which he actually had a few pots at the moment that were almost mature enough. In another couple weeks he'd harvest it for his potions kit. He'd heard that mandrake restorative draught was on the second year syllibus, and he wanted to have extra on hand, because he would manage to ruin the first caldron or too. He was pants in potions.

Since the greenhouse had been proven not to be a refuge, Neville had taken to the one birthday present that he'd thought he'd rarely use, the broom. He really didn't want to go out flying, but it did allow him to go places that his parents wouldn't think to look, like on the backside of the observation tower, which could only be seen from one particular window in Longbottom Manor, that of his Grandmother's study. It was a sad state of affairs that he wasn't worried about his grandmother's critical eye on him.

Some of his friends had thought it was strange that his grandmother had a study. Witches generally had a parlor, not a study, but his Gran had been running the Longbottom estates for decades, and would probably continue to do so. His father would be returning to his job as an auror once Neville left for his second year, and as for his mother, she'd like to be doing the same, but having Neville's little brother or sister had prevented that.

Neville had been there when his mother had accused his father of getting a fertility potion from Mrs. Weasley. It took ten minutes of back and forth insinuation between his parents before he'd realized that soon he wouldn't be an only child any more. Then the descriptions had gotten a bit embarrassing and he'd fled the room.

That evening his father had given him the talk. Neville tried not to think about that, especially when he thought about Ginny. She'd just been his date by drawing, once, but if there was a girl in his dreams, not of his dreams, there was a difference, then she was it. Her visit for his birthday had been eye opening. He'd seen some changes in the girls of his year, but Ginny had really changed between February and July. He knew why Ron had found his sister different when he'd got home. He'd seen Ginny in that bikini.

Neville leaned back against the wall of the observation tower and looked up at the clouds. He remembered flying in them, putting his Nimbus 2001 through the paces like Harry had told him to, but he also remember looking up and seeing Ginny's flaming hair among the clouds. She'd told him she wanted to try out for the Quidditch team as soon as she could. She'd told him more about her flying than she'd told her brothers. Neville felt proud about that. It was nice being confided in.

He looked down towards the Quidditch pitch that his father had installed, not the Neville had used it. His house guests for the summer, Hillard and Brocklehurst were there. Brocklehurst still had trouble walking, but had no trouble flying. Since Hillard was on his house's Quidditch team as a keeper, Brocklehurst had been pressed into being an opposing chaser. The rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team was due over in the afternoon, and he'd been told not to spy on them.

Like Neville would really do that. He had no real interest in playing Quidditch, or passing intelligence off to Oliver Wood. He did like watching Quidditch. In fact, his father had taken him to a Quidditch game between Puddlemere and Holyhead. That had been a rather fun day.

Neville looked up at the clouds again, watching them fly by, just enjoying the quiet wind passing over him. Maybe in an hour or two he'd fly back down to be with his parents again, but for now, he was enjoying being alone, doing nothing, having discovered that it is possible to have too much of a good thing.

When Seamus had met up with Parvati to go shopping, he had certain expectations. Now that he thought about it, as she greeted him with an enthusiastic hug, he acknowledged to himself that his expectations were widely divergent. He had some wishes, like another kiss like their first kiss, but he didn't expect that. No, what he expected was rather simple. He'd expected them to go from shop to shop picking up everything on their list and maybe get a few scores at the bookstore. They'd chat like they did last year. It would be back to normal. They way things had been during their first year.

Things hadn't been normal since Neville's birthday. He'd apparently come home from that birthday party in the words of his mother, totally besotted. His mother was still teasing him about that. She really should give him a break. It had been his first kiss, and he liked Parvati, he liked her a lot. That kiss, and when his hand had found her bare bum, well, there had been dreams. It hadn't helped that Parvati had managed to get grounded for it and a long phone call.

But the grounding was over now. His father had apparently had a chat with her father, and well he was sure that Parvati was wearing under things today. The hug ended just after his arms around her had managed to confirm that. The hug neatly transitioned into his arm around her waist, and her arm around his, as they turned towards the entry to Diagonally. "Still think we should start with Blots?" he asked.

Their was a sudden clearing of throat, and Seamus looked up to discover that Mr. Patil was right in front of him, looking down at him with an unreadable expression, his thick black goatee serving to convey an expression of seriousness. Somehow Seamus got the message that you didn't cross this man before he opened his mouth.

"Mister Finnigan," Mr. Patil drew out in a cadence that would not have been out of place in a dirge. "I am entrusting my daughter to your care. I expect her to be well treated, and excuses for an change in her physical or emotional states will be accepted only rarely. I expect a happy and healthy daughter back at the Leaky Cauldron no later than half past six. Forget the time, and I shall transfigure you into a pocket watch for my daughter."

Seamus could only nod his agreement. He'd never had such orders made of him before.

"Parvati, I do not have to repeat your rules?"

"No father."

"Then I shall see you both no later than half past six for a dinner with all the parents, and the signing of your courtship contract." With that, Mr. Patil appariated away, leaving behind only a wisp of purple smoke.

"He just has to do that effect as he leaves," Parvati groused. "Come on Seamus, we need to start on our lists. Madam Malkin's here we come."

Parvati's pull of their joined hands towards the robe shop reminded him of one thing he had forgotten when he'd agreed to join her for shopping. Parvati loved fashion. Seamus groaned, he'd already let Parvati know that his mother wanted him to get some more formal robes for some reason.

Entering the shop, Parvati had such an expression of glee as she let go of his hands, and headed right for the formal robe. "Come on Seamus, we need to match, and Father gave me a great budget."

"Pardon me, Parv, but I need to talk to Mister Finnigan," Parvati's older brother Parviz interrupted. "I won't take long."

Seamus took a big gulp as he found himself suddenly in a conjured tent, alone, with Parviz. The big brother who was in the British India Magical Army. The big brother who had faced down and apparently dueled a Dark Lord of Kashmir. The big brother who regularly practiced with a pair of swords which he'd watched just a few hours ago when they'd been at the Patil home.

The conjuration didn't last long, though. Parviz barely had enough time to move to loom over Seamus before it was dispelled by shop keeper. Seamus could see the disapproving glare of Madam Mulkin, more over, he could see Parvati step up to her older brother, her wand out, pointing it at his chest, static snapping down her wand arm. He'd never seen Parvati quite so scary.

"No," Parvati said firmly. "You've had enough time to scare him, and will have more this evening. This is our shopping time. Stand back and watch us if you want, but no more, not after the swords. Come on Seamus, we're supposed to pick up something traditional, and something not. What do you expect to see with traditional Irish formal robes?"

Seamus latched onto Parvati's question, trying to ignore the tremor that her older brother's actions had created. "Yellow under robe, usually a dull shade of that, and a vest like over robe, colors generally dark. Richer colors indicate richer people, and the Finnigans, well, we're not that rich. We're small landholders, who barely held onto our land when the English invaded back in Medieval times."

"So, not pure jewel hues, more off colors, and a bit towards the dull shades," Parvati summarized. "I think I can work with that. What do you think of artichoke?"

"I hate artichokes," Seamus replied puzzled.

"I was thinking about the color, but now that I think of it, let's toss that and asparagus too," Parvati said. "Colors are okay, not spectacular, but now that I think of it, I wouldn't want to say that was the color we chose. Shamrock's too much of a jewel color, so that's out. Maybe tea green – no, reseda green. Is there any problem with the under robe being a bit more towards gold?"

Seamus at least knew what color gold was, he had no idea what those other colors were. That being said, he trusted her when it came to clothes. "I'd be willing to go all the way to gold if you think it would look good."

"Oh, it will look good," Parvati said. "Especially since I'm going for a more modern traditional dress instead of a full robe. Hopefully our picture will end up beside the announcement. It might be one of the few good things started by my paranoid older brother, who awaked the traditionalist soul in my father."

"I think you might want to blame your mother's romance novels too," Seamus said. "I particularly point out, The Cheerleader's Baby and Pudding Club Ranch which happened to be on the end table next to your mother's chair this morning. I'm pretty sure they aren't yours, your sisters, or your sister-in-laws."

"And how are you sure about that?" Parvati said, raising her left eyebrow, as she came to a stop next to a set of under robes with puffy sleeves.

"I know your reading taste, and Padma isn't too far off that, or so you've told me. "Kaamilee was reading The Hound of the Baskervilles, so I doubt those are hers." Seamus said as she pulled out one in a gold shade and held it up to him.

"You're right, mum wanted a large family, but couldn't have any more after us," Parvati said, shaking her head. "Less gold, more yellow, for you, I think. As soon as she finds out Kaamilee is pregnant, she'll have no peace."

"Which is why, we're not telling Mum until Kaamilee is safe at Hogwarts," Parviz interjected himself back into the conversation. "Not to tell anything about that plan, Kaamilee will let you wear the necklace you so liked that was her mother's for the picture."

"She's already promised me that, Parviz," Parvati replied.

Parvati put her signature right below Seamus's on the courtship agreement, adding her promise to his. She'd read the whole thing, and her brother had been right, it wasn't something to hurt her, but to protect her. Some of it was a bit depressing, with what would happen in the event of her parents' deaths should the courtship agreement be still in effect, but her parents and his parents had lived through Voldemort. (Someday she'd shock her parents by using the name out loud.)

She looked over at her older brother and his wife, who stood as witnesses. She was fairly certain it was Parviz's idea. "Over protective older brothers" was a recent phrase added to her vocabulary. Back before she'd entered Hogwarts, before Parviz had entered his mandatory year of service in Magical British Kashmiri, her brother's protective streak hadn't been something she'd found to be against her. That was before her brother had found out about the kiss.

Maybe she could direct the over protective older brother thing over to Padma, now that she was protected by this agreement. She looked over at Parviz. He was whispering to Seamus, and Seamus was getting paler by the moment. Parvati handed the quill over to Madam Bones, who was serving as witness and rushed over to her courting wizard.

"Sorry, Parviz, I read the contract," Parvati said, with the biggest smile she could give. "You're not allowed to discourage Seamus from doing anything."

"Not anything," Parviz said, quietly. "I can still tell him not to do things too soon. I don't want you to turn up like Kaamilee is before you get your NEWTs."

"Like Kaamilee is ... big brother, it's only been a few weeks ... just how far along is my sister-in-law?" Parvati whispered in her brother's ear, his words having moved her from the suspicion that had been triggered while he was chaperoning her shopping to confirmation.

"Eleven weeks," Parviz whispered back. "Don't tell Padma. I'm not supposed to admit it to anyone, but that's how I got her out of India instead of her ending up being sold in to a multiple marriage by her uncle."

"Then don't do anything to Seamus, and I won't, but I bet she'll put one and two together once Kaamilee has the baby seven weeks before she should have," Parvati replied. "She's in Ravenclaw."

"Don't know how much that helps, I heard that Gryffindor and Ravenclaw switched places when it comes to smarts this year," Parviz said. "Sorry Seamus, I'll try to keep out of things. I know you both don't really want to go much further right now, and probably don't expect to end up married anyway, but it protects you both, especially given what you told me happened at Hogwarts last year. Stay close to Parvati. It will make me feel a lot better knowing just how Gryffindor bands together. And if you can watch out for Kaamilee, no matter what house she's sorted into, I'd appreciate it."

"We all will," Seamus said. "And you know, after last year, we know how to keep an eye on pregnant girls."

"Just don't make my little sister one anytime soon, please, Seamus," Parviz asked.

"No promises," Parvati shot in reply. "Come on, Seamus, they're putting out the food, and you promised to cover my sacred cow cravings."

"Cravings? Not you too ..." Parviz started to panic.

"Oh boy ... I'm going to have fun with this one," Parvati said, pulling Seamus away. Across the room she signaled with her secret twin hand signals exactly what to tease her older brother with. The next week and a half were going to be so fun, getting her older brother back for the trouble he'd caused her with this contract.

Lavender was quite surprised to meet up with her uncle again in Rome. She'd spent all of the last week at the beach in Southern Italy, since being dropped off following their adventure in Albania. It had been rather nice and relaxing. There was absolutely nothing to remind her of anything as she laid on the beach in the sun, not a care in the world, and much to her father's continued dismay, not a stitch on.

Now, though, she was in Rome, and her Uncle Charlie had turned up, dressed in full Royal Navy Uniform. It was the first time she'd really seen her uncle in the deep navy blue coat, with it's two rows of four buttons, four gold braids on the sleeves, and what she'd been already informed was a deliberately deceased array of ribbons, with permission. As a captain, even three rows of medal ribbons would draw unnecessary attention. She'd seen her uncle carefully choosing among them, making sure his Marksmanship, South Atlantic Medal, Queen's Gallantry Medal with silver rosette, and something called the DSO, were placed precisely in the right place. There were eight metal ribbons left in his case.

Dressed in her Hogwarts skirt, blouse, and tie, Lavender definitely felt underdressed next to her Uncle. Especially given where they were going. A school girl's outfit did not seem right to visit anything like Palazzo del Sant'Uffizio. True, they were not entering via the main entrance, of the Extra-territorial building of the Vatican adjoining the Paul VI Audience Hall, but through a much less grand door next to the parking lot. It was the Vatican though, and she was about to met a man who was one of the Princes of the Church.

It did not help that in Lavender's backpack was once again containing crystalized dark lord. She'd had it in her pack from Albania back to the Oracle, and the two mile nighttime underwater swim that it had taken to get there. Then she'd forgotten about it, mostly, until her uncle had slid it back into the pack. She'd been nervous all the way over in the Aston Martin.

They were let into the palazzo by a young priest, who escorted them to the open center of the building where a man in a black cassock wearing a brilliant scarlet zuchetto in his white hair. No introductions were given, as Lavender had been told earlier none would, though the Cardinal was quite well known. "You have the sundered soul?" the Cardinal asked.

"Yes, encased in crystal, as suggested," Uncle Charlie replied.

"Place it on the font, so we may determine just how sundered the soul is," the Cardinal ordered.

Lavender took off her back pack and carefully removed the crystal encased ruby of a soul. As she placed it in the notch on the edge of the font, the sun caught it, and the waters of the font were cast in deep red, almost the color of blood.

"This soul has been spilt as your government has suspected," the Cardinal said, examining the waters. "In seven parts it has been split. Two parts are no longer where the soul expects them. One lies deep under the earth, and another where it is required. The seventh lies within bounds of his ancestral home. The last of them was unintended, and must be carefully taken care of. The Church is aware of it, and shall arrange for its capture. We wish to borrow your young agent here to assist on seven nights hence in Saint Clementine in Godric's Hollow where the Chosen One will be freed from one of his burdens."