A/N: Best laid plans people... Sorry this one took so long. I have been moving stuff into storage, getting ready for a big summer adventure/project, and traveling to see family. Also, this one was harder than the Harry one at the end of Ginny Potter and Hell's Portal, since it required something of an ending. Also it's long. Really long. Sorry. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! (Next will be that bit of fluff for you, PotterMum!)

As a disclaimer, this little plot bunny mixes with Native American history. I am somewhat familiar with the tribe mentioned, but by no means have done extensive research or am knowledgable enough for any of it to be taken as anything but a fictional idea entangled with real issues of the time. I'm playing as much of the basic ideas JK Rowling gave in terms of Native wizards this way.

Ivy in June: Part 2

Sean urged his horse forward, faster and faster in the dead of night. Rayna's screams echoed in his ears. It was normal, Frederick Merrifield insisted as his wife, Patricia, and their oldest daughter continued to tend to Rayna while the man sat, hearing only the worst of everything.

Patricia had talked to Frederick first. A grim expression set in and he nodded, stroking his beard. They were the closest wizarding neighbors Sean had and he had apparated to get Patricia as soon as signs of birthing came. Frederick was full of all sorts of reassurances and Sean believed them. Afterall, the Merrifields had seven surviving children to their names and not one lost in the midst.

Frederick held Sean back, reminding him that it wasn't a man's place to be in a birthing room. That there were other things they could do.

"There's a potion," Frederick said. "Only…"

"Only what?" Sean demanded.

"Only the main ingredient is collected by the Crow medicine men. They used to be friendlier to us. You know, those of us with magic."

"I'll get it," Sean insisted, reaching for his cloak.

"You can't apparate on their lands."

"I'll get it," Sean growled.

"Tell them what's going on with your wife. They'll know what we need. Just be careful, with all this treaty nonsense from the muggles, there's little trust from them anymore," Frederick explained.

Sean nodded. "I'll get it."

"I'll have everything else ready," he replied.

Sean rushed out to the horse, climbing on bareback and using its mane to hold on over the rocky terrain into the native lands. He heard the sound of music echoing in the distance before he saw the glow of firelight. His back hurt from how he had ridden, and he was certain he was pushing his horse beyond its normal capabilities, but he had to get there. He had to get there now.

People scattered, yelling as he interrupted their dancing and chanting.

"I need help!" he shouted.

There was a murmuring and various hands pulled him down, pushing him back. He was separated from his mare. She tossed back her head as one tall, large Crow yelled into his face, spit gathering as he shoved him against a rocky wall of the canyon.

"Please!" he shouted back.

The man raised his arm.

"Stop!"

Silence settled over the entire group in front of him. He watched as they parted, the man coming through with an abundance of hide clothing, elaborate beading, and eccentric designs to his hair. He had a large scar running from the inner brow of his right eye, passed the outside left corner of his lips. He narrowed his eyes at Sean.

"You interrupted," he said in broken English.

"I'm sorry," Sean said, panting. "I'm sorry, but I need your help. My wife—"

"Why help you?" the man said.

Sean swallowed. "I have no quarrel with you. We have lived here peacefully."

"On whose land?"

"What?" Sean asked.

"Whose land do you now hold?"

"O-our own," Sean said.

"Are you sure about that?" the taller, more intimidating Crow asked him. Unlike the older man, his English was clear and without a distinguishable accent.

"I think so," Sean said. "I only recently learned of your struggle, but we are outside any hunting grounds."

"All of this was ours," the larger Crow said.

"Well then I'm sorry, I didn't know," Sean said. "But my wife… she's having our child and—"

Several people murmured as an old woman came forward, pulling his wand from his cloak before he knew what exactly they were fussing over.

"The foal!" the woman cried.

"The foal!" others would call in English, but mostly they were all jabbering in their native tongue and Sean looked around, wondering if the baby would die in the time it took them to allow him to explain himself and what he needed.

"You want a trade?" the older man asked.

"Yes," Sean said. "My wife—"

"Come!" he replied and the tall man pushed Sean along by the shoulder, moving behind him as they took him to the outskirts of the dwellings, entering a tent where an elderly man sat, spooning some sort of soup into his mouth. The older man squatted beside him, muttering something to him as the eldest of them put down the bowl and looked at Sean. He spoke in their native language. The man behind Sean interpreted.

"You have come for Bilítaachiia Root," he said.

"I'm not sure, sir. My wife—" he was interrupted again. Interpretation came a moment behind.

"She is giving birth to your son."

"Son?"

"Yes your son."

The elder stood, more lithely than seemed possible for a man so wrinkled with age. He came close to Sean, shorter than the others, though he put his face close. As close as he could manage. "This is a trade."

"I don't have much," Sean said. "We spent everything to get here."

"This spring your mare will have a foal that will shift the war against the white man. The first foal you will bring to us."

"Anything," Sean said. "If you can save my son, I will give anything."

The elderly man turned and shuffled to a table, untangling wild and dirt covered roots, bringing them back to Sean. He placed one hand under Sean's, the other holding the roots so that they sat between each man's palm. He spoke. English followed.

"If you do not make payment at the time it is due, you will lose what is precious to you."

Sean swallowed. "I'll pay."

The elderly man dropped the roots into his hand. "Go," he said for himself.

After two days, Ivy was allowed to go home. Albus and Josephine had a chance to meet with a specialist healer when she was to be released, so the duty fell to Taylor and Ginny to take Ivy back to the Burrow with them that morning. The meeting didn't put them significantly ahead, though they did attempt to give Josephine and Albus more specific problems that would be looked at for answers. Of course, they still did not have any.

Every other moment Albus sat next to Emily, holding her hand, looking for any sign of improvement (often at the detriment of getting his hopes up), and slept leaning next to her shoulder. After a week of this, Taylor and Josephine would prod him into taking shifts. He hated to leave, but Taylor was giving him narrowed glances and growing more insistent.

Rather than heading home, Albus would stop at his Uncle George and Aunt Angelina's to shower and change clothes, then head into the Ministry, working minimally on assignments and stealing away into the vast library. The Ministry's library was not limited to books about magic. It did include as much, of course, but it was better described as an archive, and one of the most comprehensive in the world. The British Ministry of Magic had various arrangements with other ministries for record exchanges—British records for Russian, African, German, American. It was a way to ensure the continuation of these records, but in truth the wizarding world was still in a minority compared to the muggle. Of course, even this would be limited, but Albus had to wonder.

Josephine had few answers when it came to her side of Emily's extended family. And they always included an addendum along the lines of not knowing for sure. No one in the family talked about unpleasant things, it seemed. Albus had always thought it was just Emily and Taylor. He didn't blame them either, but it seemed as much a family tradition as anything else. Taylor knew even less about their father and his family, though Albus was looking into both, finding answers to questions he knew would be otherwise avoided.

After the fourth day of investigations, Albus walked into the hospital room, tucking away a couple scrolls into his briefcase. Taylor was leaning back in a chair with her feet on the base of the hospital cot. Josephine was at the end of the bed, rubbing Emily's feet with lotion.

"Hi, Albus," she said, giving him an encouraging smile. "How's Ivy?"

"Good," Albus said. Taylor tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. He concentrated on Josephine. "Arthur is smitten. Keeps telling my mum that Ivy's his." This was true. He was getting reports in the forms of owls and exchanges when his mum would bring food by the hospital.

"What a sweetie," Josephine said, "and a good brother."

"Emily wondered how he would be with a sibling," Albus sighed, looking at Emily.

"I remember when dad brought Emily home," Taylor said. "I adored her, but I still missed my dad."

"You mean mom," Josephine said, but Albus didn't miss the meaningful glare. He swallowed.

"Why don't you come with me," Josephine said. "I could use some company picking out some clothes for Ivy. And something for Arthur at Diagon Alley. He'll love seeing his aunt, anyway."

"Alright," Taylor said.

"Call us if there's anything, Albus," Josephine added. He nodded and she came over, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He waited until they were out of the room for nearly ten minutes before pulling out the records, examining them again.

Calvin turned the glass of whiskey in his hand, topping it off and drinking more. Late night turned into early morning and he continued to sip and think. Emily had grown even more lovely, even more like Eliza. Taylor had been reminder enough, but Emily was like an exact copy. A terrible and unfair pestering that he lost the person he had loved most.

If the girls needed him, it might have been different, but they didn't. Taylor and Emily lived in their own little world in this house. Neither of them found joy with him and he found himself less patient than he was before losing Eliza. He wasn't the father Eliza had thought he was and he didn't know how to be that. It was time to stop trying.

Calvin took a quill and wrote out as much as he could stand in a letter. His hand shook at the end, the words becoming small and unsteady. He took another drink. With the page filled with ink, he folded the page and sealed it into an envelope. He went into his office and grabbed the bag with his wedding pictures, clothing, and two locks of hair he had taken from each of his daughters the night before. Calvin tightened his hand around the bag and moved towards the front door.

"Daddy?" Taylor asked from the top of the stairs.

He turned, looking at her. She was getting to be so big. Eight years old and she never stopped getting stronger, being better. Josephine would help her continue that way. He was sure of it.

"Where are you going, Daddy?" Taylor asked, rubbing her tired eyes. Calvin swallowed.

"I have an early job today," he lied. "Go back to bed, bug."

"Did you get your lunch?" Taylor asked. "I made you a lunch."

"I'll get it in a minute," Calvin said, feeling his resolve weaken. "Come… come give me a hug and get back to sleep."

Taylor skipped down the stairs and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Love you, Daddy."

Tears burned Calvin's eyes. He forced them back, holding Taylor tightly to him. "I love you too, bug."

Calvin gave Taylor one last kiss on the cheek and watched as she ascended the stairs and turned to her bedroom on the right, then he turned and walked out of the house him and Eliza had bought together. The place that had been their home. On the way down the road, he put the letter in the doorway of their neighbor that would explain where he went and let them know how to contact Josephine.

Calvin never could have imagined that the letter would fall when the neighbor's son ran out to chase after a stray dog a couple hours later. He couldn't have known it would ease down into a large gap between slats on the porch. By the time anyone found it, the ink had faded and the paper was destroyed. The words had long since been unknown and his daughters ended up with his estranged mother, who Calvin had purposefully kept his daughters away from until the day she received an owl, explaining the need for someone to come and claim Emily and Taylor.

Calvin never knew the damage he caused the day he walked out that door.

Albus sat at the bar at the Leaky Cauldron after hours of searching and thinking. He spun the glass with the tips of his finger, watching as the amber liquid sloshed in a pattern, back and forth. He needed to get back to the hospital, but he didn't know how he was going to sit there and watch her without anything new. Nothing he could do.

Someone sunk into the chair beside him, even though the rest of the seats were empty. He looked over as his brother, James, scratched his head and leaned on his forearms, looking straight ahead.

"Just a butterbeer, Bowers," James said, adjusting himself to turn towards Albus. He waited a moment, thanking the bartender and taking a sip. "Mum's worried about you."

Albus gave a huff. "Mum's always worried."

"She says you haven't been home at all," James said. "Three weeks—"

"You know, I don't need a lecture from you," Albus snapped.

"No lectures," James said, staying more calm than Albus remembered him ever being before. He was either settling in for a long conversation or (Albus suspected) James simply pitied him that much. "I don't think I have to tell you that Taylor's brassed. She's had a few choice words about your absence when the kids aren't around."

"I can't be there," Albus said, tears stinging as he leaned into his hands. "The last time we talked—before labor set in—Emily was fine, James."

"I know," James said. "I mean, you must realize, though, that it hits a little close to home for Taylor. Disappearing father abandoning his two kids when they don't have their mum either."

"I didn't abandon them," Albus said, turning towards James. "Mum and Dad are with them. Not some insane, abusive woman I've left their fates to."

"They still need you," James said sympathetically.

"I'll be there," Albus said. "I just need time."

"Time for what?"

Albus turned in his chair, reaching down to the briefcase and pulling out the papers he had copied from the Ministry library. He dropped them in front of James. He shuffled through them.

"What are these?" James asked.

"Records of Emily's ancestors," Albus said.

"Why were you looking at these?"

"Seven generations on her mum's side," Albus said. "Seven generations, they never had more than two children each."

"Okay," James replied, confused.

"Emily's mum died. Her grandmum was perfectly healthy, then was more or less an invalid after Josephine was born. Emily's great uncle's wife died after their second son was born. The ones that didn't have two were fine, but none had more than that and there's always complications the second time 'round," Albus said, pointing to each example in the papers as he cited them.

"So she has a condition?"

"I think they're cursed," Albus said.

James froze and looked at him again. "Are you sure you aren't just—"

"I'm not just anything," Albus said. "This is what I've been doing. This is what I'm looking at. Josephine said her mum had the same heartburn when she was pregnant with Emily. Not pregnant in general, just with Emily. Emily didn't have any problems with Arthur. She had been totally fine with Ivy, too, until the end. There's something bigger here."

James continued to rifle through the papers, shuffling them as he licked his lips.

"Why didn't you tell them this is what you were doing?" James asked.

"Why do you think? Your first reaction was to assume I was grasping straws," Albus replied. He picked up his glass and took another drink.

"Sorry," James said and took a deep breath. "But we're here to help. Let us help."

"How?" Albus asked.

"For starters, how about I pick up where you left off here," James said. "Is there anything beyond this?"

"If there is, I'm not finding it," Albus admitted.

"Okay," James said. "I'll get Imogen to help me with this. You go home."

James clapped a hand on Albus's shoulder, paid the bartender for both their drinks, and Albus finished his off. He took the now empty briefcase and took the floo at the inn to go back to the Burrow.

The living room was empty and Albus walked quietly up the stairs to the first landing, opening the door to the nursery. Ginny sat in the rocking chair—the one Grandpa Weasley had made—with Arthur on her lap and Ivy in Arthur's arms, Ginny steadying her with her own hands.

"I'm holding her, Granmum," Arthur said, proudly.

"Yes, you are," Ginny said, chuckling. She looked up and caught Albus's eye, relief washing over her in a sigh.

"Daddy!" Arthur shouted.

Ginny scrambled to keep Ivy steady as the toddler crawled off her lap. Albus knelt down and opened his arms, feeling Arthur's little arms around his neck and holding tight.

"Hi, my boy," Albus whispered. "I've missed you."

Arthur pulled back.

"Look! My sister, Daddy," Arthur pointed towards Ivy. Ginny stood, bouncing Ivy in her arms.

Albus stood, setting down Arthur, who wrapped himself around Albus's leg. He held out his arms for Ivy.

"There you are, love," Ginny said, handing Ivy over.

Albus looked down at the tiny features, so like Emily's already. He hadn't even realized until that moment that he hadn't held his daughter in the three weeks she had been alive. He pulled her tighter. "Daddy's here," he whispered. "Daddy will always be here."

Ivy began to cry and Albus walked over to the rocking chair, sitting down. Ginny handed him a bottle sitting on the changing table and he hushed her. Arthur crawled onto his lap and together, they hushed and rocked Ivy until she settled, happily eating and rocking with her family.

Rayna had been anxious to continue building their family. They named their first son Wilhelm, after Rayna's father. He was barely a year when Rayna was pregnant again.

Sean continued to work and grow their land. The seasons went by and the mare, too, was ready to give birth that spring, shortly after Rayna announced her pregnancy to him. The roads and connections for wizards were becoming strong enough, her mother would be able to come out this time. Patricia had told them the potion from the Crow would be potent enough to make Rayna strengthened as well.

Sean took it as a good sign when the mare gave birth not to one, but two foals. The first was a pure, beautiful and unique white, unlike anything from the family line of the horse he had purchased. His own was brown with black markings, as was the second foal. He sent a notice to the Medicine Man, letting them know that he would bring the owed horse in six months, after weaning it from the mother.

The longer he worked with the horses, though, the more he realized how extraordinary the white mare would be. Strong and agile, the horse showed more potential than he thought he would ever see in one of his steeds. As they weaned, he thought more and more. They were both from the first birth. That was what he had promised, wasn't it?

When the day came for the exchange he stood, watching the two. The white mare looked at him, unblinking, like she was reading him. The other was a strong horse as well. As a stallion, the same genes could be bred through his siring among whatever horses the Crow already had. It would be infinitely more valuable, Sean argued with himself.

Sean reached for the lead rope, taking the dark stallion and placing it on with one hand, holding the horse still with the other. Leading the horse out, he didn't look back, mounting his own mare and following the trail to the edge of the native lands. He waited until the large man came, inspected the horse, then nodded approvingly. They didn't shake hands or exchange words and Sean let out a sigh of relief as he returned home to Rayna.

Three months passed before Sean thought of the mare or stallion again. Patricia and Fredrick were gone, but Sean was able to bring back their eldest girl, who had helped before.

"I need warm water… Towels… Philip will tell Ma to come when they're home. We just have to wait until then," the girl said.

Sean sat behind Rayna, patting her forehead as she breathed heavily. Wilhelm slept peacefully in the other room.

"It's… it's not like last time," the girl said, her brow knit.

"The potion should have made this easier," Sean said. "Your dad said that."

"It does," the girl replied. "It always does."

Rayna groaned and Sean held onto her, holding her hands in each of his. "It's alright, it's alright," Sean continued to mutter into her ear.

She was pale and sweating profusely, feverish in his arms.

"I have to go get more root for the potion," Sean said, moving from behind Rayna, folding pillows and grabbing another blanket to prop her up. "I have to do it now. Tell your da I'll be back soon."

The girl nodded, her eyes wide and fearful. "Hurry," she pleaded.

Sean leaned over and kissed Rayna's burning forehead, then turned and made a journey he had made once before. Faster, he pushed his mare. The darkened path was eerily familiar beneath him. Sean continued to picture his wife as she lay, lose energy when hours before she had been well. He dug his heels into his mare and clicked his tongue, urging her to lunge deeper, moving quicker.

The tribe was not in the middle of a ceremony this time. Most were tucked away into their shelters, a few wandering in the dark.

"Where is your medicine man?" Sean shouted.

A woman started yelling at him. Sean didn't need their language to know that she was telling him off. He turned on the horse, continuing to ask as he went farther into their camp.

"Medicine man?" he asked. A young girl dropped the ragged doll in her hands. "Medicine man?"

He saw the tall, stoic man who had held him before and Sean pushed forward, coming closer. "I need to see your medicine man," Sean said, his voice shaking.

"No," the man said, his voice boomed and the chaotic murmur around them ended abruptly.

Sean stayed still, stunned for a moment. "My wife—"

"Would be fine, if you had given us the first foal," the man stated. Sean froze. "I thought I sensed your lie."

"There were two…"

"The first," the man snapped.

"You can have her," Sean said, panic rising in him. "You can keep both. I will bring her tomorrow—"

"Too late," the man said. "What could have been was tainted."

A baby cried on the edges of their little village. Sean didn't move, looking around for sympathy, though all he found was people whispering to one another, holding their children to look away from him.

"Go spend what time you have left," the Crow man said and turned to go back into his tent.

Sean felt a moment of stunned shock before he turned his mare back around. The women and children he had passed entering parted to create an exit from him, some shouting strings of nonsense, others wailing into the night. Sean kept his mare at the same pace running back to their homestead, pulling his horse up short to the porch and ran inside. A baby's cry pierced his ears and Sean ran into the house.

A child was nestled into Patricia's arm, her daughter at her shoulder with tears staining her cheeks and Frederick facing his wife. He turned to Sean.

"I'm sorry, Sean," Frederick said.

Sean didn't wait as he dashed up the steps and into the room he had last seen Rayna.

Someone had closed her eyes. She was stiff and pale, and lifeless. Sean knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in his, pushing back her hair, still wet from her last moments of life. Sean bent over her body, his cries matching their daughter's below.

Albus and Taylor walked into the conference center in the city of Inverness. They arrived the night before after James gave them this lead. Albus hadn't been back into the Ministry Library since James took the files, which endeared Taylor somewhat more to him. They followed the crowds, sitting in the back rows as they filled in. The panel of speakers settled, though with various tests and checks, it was another quarter hour before they started.

"How do we know this will work?" Taylor asked.

"We don't," Albus said. "But we have to try."

Taylor took on a look of steely determination, giving a single nod as the questions began. The panel was full of scholars on aboriginal forms of magic. Albus looked at the man on the far left, dressed in clothing he had seen on the Native Americans in pictures James had found. Him and one other leader of a tribe were representing their populations as they talked about magical legislation and how this affected the ancient lands.

Albus would have normally been enthralled, but he could only concentrate on the man who was his last hope. The healers had found nothing and Albus thought he knew why. They hadn't told Josephine, in case this didn't work. Even Taylor agreed it was better that way. Ginny was watching the children and James was going to help until Harry was done teaching that night. The rest was up to them.

With the final round of applause, people began to stand. Albus and Taylor both stood up, though she was shorter than her sister and aunt, standing on her toes to see.

"They're leaving," she said incredulously.

"Come on," Albus said, grabbing her hand and dragging her around, pushing through the mingling crowd, discussing the talking points they had just heard and what they thought should happen. He moved towards the back and was stopped at a security point. "Sorry, I just need a moment with Mr. Upshaw."

"No one is allowed back here," the man said, keeping a hand on Albus's shoulder.

"It's fine," Upshaw said, adjusting his glasses and narrowing his eyes at Albus over the guard's shoulder. "I sensed you," he added.

The guard let out a frustrated sigh and allowed Albus and Taylor to move passed him, blocking others who were peeking over to see the famed academics they had come to see.

"Mr. Upshaw, my name is Albus Potter and I have reason to believe—"

"My people cursed your family," Upshaw said with a solemn nod, though he looked at Taylor, not Albus. "The betrayal happened far more often than it should have, even among us magis."

"We didn't do anything," Taylor snapped, stiffening. "And now my sister is dying because of some jackass two hundred years ago?"

James was the one who found the memoir. He had traced it back to a man who was left to tend his two children, taking them back to New Hampshire after his wife died. He came from a family of ten children—the only with more. Upshaw's sympathetic look confirmed what they had suspected. It had started with Sean and Rayna. And a broken promise. Sean had shot the horse, stating it was useless to him. Then he packed up his house, took the children by train, and finished the record in an epithet of hatred towards the Natives that had cursed them. Albus couldn't tell if Sean knew that curse would continue, that he was inflicting this pain generation after generation.

Albus took a deep breath, waiting for Upshaw. The man didn't say anything.

"Please," Albus said. "There must be something that can be done."

Upshaw looked at Albus. "The debt cannot be paid. Reparations aren't always possible in either direction."

Albus took in an unsteady breath as Taylor turned, cursing under her breath. He pulled his wallet out, pulling pictures.

"That's my wife," Albus said, showing Upshaw. "Our son is two… he'll be three and… and our baby is only a month. I-I don't have a photograph of her yet. We… we haven't had a chance with…" Albus trailed off, his face screwing up as he swallowed. "We did the research and learned what happened. We know what that meant for you, but if you knew everything my wife has been through…"

"I can see it," Upshaw said. "It's a rare man that takes that burden on himself."

"I haven't—"

"Yes you have," Upshaw said. He took in a heavy breath. Albus looked over his shoulder where Taylor stood, arms folded and biting back her tears. Albus was sure he'd never seen Taylor cry. He was almost terrified to see it. "There is much love here. But the curse that hangs above you began when a deception was made."

"Please, you are my last hope."

"Our last hope ended long ago."

"What about my children? Will this continue with them?" Albus asked.

"Likely. It was magic of the land, not magic of my people directly."

Albus nodded. "We know what happened to your people," Albus said quietly. "I will do anything, sir."

"I remember when Sean promised as much," Upshaw said.

Albus narrowed his eyes, looking at the man who couldn't have been older than sixty. The man took Albus in with a firm, appraising glance. He put a hand on each of Albus's shoulders. Albus forgot about the crowds of others around them.

"Laws will be passed regarding our lands," Upshaw said. "The international wizengamot wishes to expose us to the world, but we prefer our seclusion. It protects us and the wizards who wish for nothing more than simple trades. You have experienced that no such simplicity exists in these ancient spaces."

"I can't made international laws," Albus said, shaking his head, his heart dropping. "I only serve to enforce—"

"Speak for us," Upshaw interrupted him again. Albus swallowed. "Can you support us and add your voice to ours."

Albus considered this. It had already proved detrimental to the family, making and breaking these half hearted promises. He thought about the panel, sifting through what his mind had been picking up as he concentrated on Upshaw. They wanted anonymity, for their tribe and community. There were spaces kept sacred and unknown to the muggle government in America. Some of them, including Upshaw, were arguing for these to remain ungoverned by international forces.

Albus nodded slowly.

"These forces are long lost to us," Upshaw said. "But I will search. Now, go back to your wife."

"How will we know if you find anything?" Taylor asked, wiping at her eyes.

"You'll know," he said. "Until then, you must trust."

Taylor had gotten a stack of books and scrolls from Imogen and James, searching for herself, but Albus felt like Upshaw's words told him one thing in particular: no one who wasn't a member of the tribe would know. It wasn't written. Upshaw might not have even known, in fact Albus was sure he didn't.

Instead, he found a new routine. Albus spent the evenings holding Ivy and playing with Arthur. Nights were sleeping in a chair beside Emily. Days he would go into work to see that there weren't urgent matters to attend to. Then he would take as much research with him to the hospital to read with Taylor in the same room, searching… searching… searching. This time he told James, so that his brother spent his own spare time looking with him. Albus wrote directives and opinions, submitting them to The Prophet for consideration, but no one in England was interested in the plight of Native people in America. Not really. So his words fell away again. He sent copies to the Wizengamot, attempting to be proactive in his promise. He wondered how much was enough.

Late one night, Albus stood and decided to walk the streets of London for a while. Taylor was sitting in another chair, feet kicked up on the corner of the bed and head lolled back awkwardly. As he stepped out, the breeze picked up and Albus didn't know why, but he felt like he was being pulled one particular way. He went south on the sidewalk, alone in the dispersed bits of light.

He had gone three to four blocks when the streetlamp above him flickered, sputtered, and buzzed. Albus froze. He looked around. There was a man across the street—tall and broad shouldered. He was dressed typically, but looked straight at Albus. The man tilted his head, his face in shadow, and Albus changed direction, moving towards him. The man waited until he was halfway across the cobblestoned street before he turned and ran.

"Wait," Albus said, sensing this was important. Vital. He chased after him but the man was fast. Impossibly fast.

The man turned the corner and his feet seemed hardly to touch the ground as he glided straight. Albus froze as he lifted entirely up, his form stretching and twisting. He had wings spanning six feet. He moved upward, head shifting, feet becoming talons, feathers in place of clothing and his head becoming white against the darkened sky. The eagle sored in a wide, high circle.

Albus watched, his heart tight. The eagle circled him, then moved faster away. Albus's slumped his shoulders and then froze. There, hovering inches in front of his face was a vial. It was as long as his middle finger and filled with a purple liquid. Albus snatched it and looked to where the eagle disappeared along the lightening horizon.

Albus turned back, running toward Mungo's. He ran through the double doors on the bottom floor, pushing past an orderly blocking the lift.

"Hey, watch it!" the orderly shouted. Albus ignored him, looking more closely at the liquid. His heart pounded, wishing he could speed the lift as he moved to the fourth floor. He burst from the lift, moving around a woman taking breakfast around to patients, then hurried into Emily's room. The door hitting the wall woke Taylor with a jolt.

"What time is it?"

Albus didn't answer as he took the room in three strides, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Emily. He placed the back of his hand on her cheek, feeling her waxy skin. He held the vial as Taylor came on the other side, confusion turning to understanding as she saw the potion in his hand.

"Do you think…"

He nodded. Yes, he did think this was what they had been waiting for. An answer. A solution. He pulled off the cork and moved it towards Emily's lips. With his thumb, he parted her lips, letting the liquid drizzle at a painfully slow rate. Taylor took out her wand, propping the bed up a little more as Albus continued, one little bit at a time until only dregs and the smallest of seeds coated the sides of the glass.

They both held their breaths, Albus gripping the now empty vial. Groggy sea blue irises peeked through Emily's lashes as Taylor gasped, taking Emily's hand. Emily squeezed as her head turned and she swallowed deep. Albus moved, lips pressed to her forehead as Emily moved her other hand to his chest, still tired and weak, but her fingers were moving, her eyes opening.

"Albus," Emily whispered, gravelly from weeks of neglect.

"What, love?" he asked, his face still close to hers as her eyes met his more intently.

"Can I get some pumpkin juice?"

Albus laughed as she struggled to swallow. "Yes," he said. "Anything you want."

Albus stood to find someone to bring juice as Taylor moved closer, holding her sister. Emily's attention turned towards her. Albus breathed easier than he had in weeks as he stepped out the door.

Emily was just gaining strength again when Ginny walked in holding Arthur's hand and Josephine with Ivy in her arms an hour later, despite the healer's incredulity at the late hour. Harry followed behind the group, assuring the healer they wouldn't disturb everyone else on the floor and closing the door behind them.

"Mummy!" Arthur exclaimed pulling on Ginny's hand as she reached down, picking him up and placing him into Emily's outstretched arms. The two hugged and Albus took Ivy, going to the other side of the bed. "I miss you, Mum."

Emily kissed the top of Arthur's head, adjusting him on her lap as she turned to Ivy, her eyes filling with tears.

"She's already so much bigger," Emily said. Ivy began to fuss. When Taylor told her it had been six weeks already, Emily looked stunned and pained. Now she leaned back reaching her fingers out to Ivy's wild, black hair.

"She looks like you," Josephine said. "More hair, though. Never seen a child with hair that had a mind all its own."

Albus and his mother exchanged a smile. That was entirely Potter.

They all sat there for a long time, answering Emily's questions about what had happened since she had slipped away from them. She remembered holding Ivy, then nothing. She had dreamed, she said, but she couldn't remember what. Albus continued to tuck her hair back, over and over, holding Arthur on his lap so they were all as close as they could be. Even as Emily's energy waned, she held tighter to Ivy, leaning back with the baby laying across her body, Ivy's head laying against Emily's shoulder. It wasn't until Arthur was getting fussy and tired that Ginny and Harry said they would head home, though Emily insisted on having Arthur stay the night. A healer brought in one of the hospital's bassinets and Albus held Ivy, bouncing her until her eyes became heavy and shut, Emily's voice in the background telling Arthur a story as he, too, fell to sleep.

"I think I'll go back to your house, so it doesn't get too crowded in here," Josephine said quietly, Taylor already settling back to sleep in an arm chair on Emily's other side. "I'll be back in the morning."

Josephine leaned over to kiss Emily's cheek, Emily's hand covering her aunt's as she gave a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Aunt Josie."

"I'll walk you out," Albus offered, laying Ivy in the bassinet and holding the door open for the older woman. They made it to the stairs and were on their way down before either said anything.

"So the potion was delivered."

Albus stopped. Josephine continued until she made it to the first landing, turning to look up at Albus.

"How did you know?"

"I sent your articles to some acquaintances in the United States," she said. "James was telling me what you all found out. I wrote to Upshaw myself with the article once the Magi Magazine published it. Then I took the letter to the International Wizengamot and included it with my own to the American Council of Wizards. I have an old colleague in there, you know."

"Taylor thought it would be best not to get your hopes up," Albus hurried with an explanation. "Especially after we saw Upshaw the first time."

"I know," Josephine said. "I just wish you would have let me help. It was my family this all happened to as well. My sister…"

Silence hung between them as Albus sat on the step with a sigh.

"We should have figured it out sooner," Josephine continued. She moved up, sitting beside him. "Between mom and Eliza… I should have realized something odd was happening. But I hope you know we were to help in every way possible. You didn't have to go it alone."

"I just wanted to have solid answers first," Albus muttered. "I know what you must think of me… what Taylor thought of me when I was throwing myself into finding answers. Emily made me promise to focus on them and I ended up just like their dad."

"Yes and no," Josephine said, pursing her lips as she thought. "Calvin… Calvin wouldn't let anyone share his burden. I'd watch the girls when I could and tried to help out, but I saw the hope draining from him. He never really connected with Emily the way you have with Ivy. He never really thought he could be a dad on his own. You were finding hope instead. You just should have used all your resources. Including us."

Albus looked down at his interlocked fingers nodding. He should have. If Josephine hadn't inserted herself into his efforts, maybe they still wouldn't have Emily with him.

"Upshaw sent me a letter," Josephine added. "Something about a potion that would release the curse from the family. Said he hoped we would continue to plead their case where we were able."

"We will," Albus said.

"You let me worry about that one," Josephine said. "I'll keep you in the loop, but I can take on that. You have a family to focus on."

"Thank you," Albus said.

Josephine placed a hand on Albus's cheek and gave a kind smile, her eyes glazed with tears. She stood back up and Albus followed her to the apparition location on the south side of the hospital. Josephine told him she would be by as early as she could in the morning and to let her know if they needed anything before then.

Albus made his way back into the room. Taylor was already asleep, having become accustomed to the chair. Emily was bleary-eyed, running her hand over the top of Arthur's head over and over, turning to look at Ivy, then back at their son.

Albus sat in the other free chair, moving it close to Emily, wrapping one arm around her legs and running his thumb along her thigh. Emily turned toward him and grinned. Pale and tired, but alert.

"You scared me, Em," Albus whispered.

"I know," Emily replied. "I'm sorry."

They sat looking at one another, making up for the weeks apart until Emily couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Albus leaned forward, resting his head on her stomach and Emily fell asleep with her fingers tangled in Albus's hair.

Emily's strength returned quickly. Day-by-day, hour-by hour, she continued to return to her normal self. Three days after she woke, she was released to go home. Ginny and Harry left, saying they would visit in a few weeks again and Josephine helped wrangle Arthur as the rest of them settled into normal life. She would be around for another month or so, based on her schedule, though Taylor had to get back to her work soon after everyone was there.

"You come for my birthday, Aunt Tay-tay?" Arthur asked.

"I'll come for Christmas," she promised, picking him up and giving him a "dragon hug," as the two called it.

He ran off and Taylor made the rounds with everyone else before she took her portkey back to Romania, promising to send everyone's love and well wishes to Charlie while they were at it.

Albus watched Josephine and Arthur play from the window after waving goodbye.

"I remember one of the dreams I had," Emily said from the couch. Albus turned. She was swaying with Ivy in her arms. Albus moved closer, sitting on the arm beside her.

"Yeah?"

"I dreamed about this," Emily said. "Us. You and me. Ivy and Arthur. I dreamed about you."

Albus took her jaws in his hands. He had been gentle and cautious with her since she woke. He kissed her, noticing more than ever the warmth of her lips and the way her fingers moved on his neck.

"Yuck!" Arthur said from the doorway.

Emily laughed as Albus pulled back, looking towards the door. Albus just kept looking at her… his Emily.

"You stop doing that," Arthur instructed.

"Never," Emily countered, winking at Albus.

Arthur went on, issuing toddler orders and pulling Josephine around, telling her how things were. Albus didn't register most of it. Instead, he watched Emily laugh and question their son, hold their daughter, and he realized this was exactly what he had been dreaming of too.