Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

A/N: My intentions were not to make a long story of this. I never seem to be able to make this happen, even when I want to.

Feather, Beak and Claw

Chapter Six

Another AU Crackfic by Corvus Draconis

A gift for The Dragon and the Rose

What, sir, would the people of the earth be without woman?

They would be scarce, sir, almighty scarce.

Mark Twain

Evil was creeping into his family, even more than he suspected long before his baby brother sorted fucking Slytherin, Sirius realised.

His whole family was Slytherin, but he had hoped that his brother would eventually see the light.

But this paled in comparison to his best mate having betrayed him by working not only with Slytherin but under that greasy boil on humanity's arse. The fact that his arrogant, oh-so-perfect father had actually adopted Snivellus made his teeth itch.

The well-gilded Nundu and Gryphon Apothecary was a foul stain on Diagon Alley.

The brightly-coloured storefront and the vast array of colourful bottles lining the front window disgusted him. Sleekeazy's was in a prominent position in various sizes and dispensers, and it didn't take a master to put together that the Potters had teamed up with the Apothecary for distribution of their most popular invention. Judging by the stream of ministry officials going in and out, they had bagged a few important contracts as well.

He recognised the stone and ironwork his father had commissioned for the house at Grimmauld Place in the shop, and he saw the same carved reliefs he remembered from the Potter home inside the store. He imagined that the rest was filled in by whatever rot the bloody Lestranges liked.

He'd never forgiven the brothers tosser for having seduced Bellatrix away from him. She'd been the only one to really get him. The fact his mother and father had tried to keep him away from her only proved that they were trying to turn him into something he could never be. He could never be a slimy Slytherin.

A small whisper inside him tried to bring up that Bellatrix had been Slytherin too, but it was drowned out completely

Half-sister, the voice insisted.

He ignored it.

Orion and Walburga tried to save you from your father's line of insanity.

Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!

Bound yourself to the crazy side of the Black family.

"FUCKING SHUT UP!" he yelled.

Shoppers in Diagon Alley all turned to stare at him, shuffling their young ones as far away as possible.

He clutched his head, pulling on his shaggy black hair.

You broke out of your family home to go shag your own half-sister, you blithering idiot!

Sirius looked up to see Snivellus standing with a bushy-haired witch. He was pointing up at the signage where an enchantment caused a placard to shift from saying "potions," "wizard and witch-care products," "custom elixirs," and other drivel that had no importance.

No, what mattered to Sirius was wiping that look of normality from Snivellus' face. The git did not deserve to be content or successful. He did not deserve to have a witch touching him so casually. He most certainly did not deserve to wear the name of his family.

Rage was an old and cherished compatriot, and he saw everything in shades of dripping crimson. His heart sang for blood—to excise the malignant tumor of greasy Snivellus from his family tree. He would paint over his face and positively revel in it.

His wand found its way into his hand, and he felt its eagerness to leap into action as much as his mind wished to go there. His lips twisted upward in an eerily familiar mocking smile as his head turned to the side and back in a strange, almost serpentine dance not unlike a cobra following a flute.

Sirius had a spell on his lips before he even realised he was casting, driven to cast Darkness upon his foe and sent him reeling into the dark.

This was for having the gall to join HIS family.

This was for believing that he could.

This was for thinking he was anything but an insufferable pox upon the buttocks of any and everyone.

This was for the years spent at St Dymphna's.

This was for Bellatrix.

An unhinged giggle came from Sirius' throat.

He loosed his spell, the twisted green beam surging forward with eager, eldritch fingers.

The spell smashed into an invisible barrier as Snivellus and the witch went diving in different directions.

A pair of huge—warcats?!—pushed out of the front door, their very breath like clouds of smoke. Spiders streamed out of the awning, shooting silk from their spinnerets as the Lestrange brothers followed, wands out and faces painted in alert focus and scorn.

The larger feline roared, the ground shaking in the low vibration as they moved to surround and zero in on the offender—

But nothing prepared Sirius for being ploughed into by a rampaging stag. The stag knocked him off his feet as he stole the breath from his lungs. His breath tickled his face as his eyes locked with his once-friend's. His antlers pierced Sirius' coat and pinned him against the next shop over's storefront even as a nest of mini-gryphlets poured out of hidden hidey hole and proceeded to attack his leather clothes.

Sirius, half coated in super-sticky spider silk, pinned by antlers, stalked by a pair of Nundu, and attacked by overzealous territorial brassed-off mini-gryphs, let out a wheezing breath.

Just as Sirius was about to take them all on in his insanity, the toddler that had hitched a ride on his father's head, reached over and grasped Sirius's head with his hands, giggling hysterically.

"Hehheheheheheh!" Harry babbled and then he slapped Sirius's face.

KERPOOOOOF!

Harry's powerful accidental magic turned Sirius Black into an extra-fluffy stuffed plush dog.

Harry took Sirius up and squeezed him.

"Bark!" the plush cried. "Bark!"

Harry giggled and cuddled him tighter. "Woof!" Harry cried. He squeezed Sirius tight and chewed on his ear.

The pair of Nundus sat down and peered at the plush with confusion as the spiders scurried back to the store. The mini-gryphs seemed satisfied with their vengeance and disappeared back into the store as well.

James popped back into his human form, cradling Harry. "Uhhh."

Severus and Hermione pulled themselves up off the ground and exchanged looks.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think even karma gets any more disturbingly appropriate than that."

James scratched his head as an Auror in brown robes came rushing up. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I was a few stores down putting out a fire."

"Bark!" Sirius-plush said. "Bark!"

The Auror cocked his head with confusion.

"I saw him!" the shopkeeper from the neighbouring store said. "He had a mad look in his eyes. He sent some sort of Dark spell at the Blacks right in front of the store!"

The Auror waved his wand over the toy and stared at the adorable black dog plush with curious horror. "So, um, who did this?"

James grunted. "That would have been my son, Harry."

"WOOF!" Harry said, beating the Auror over the head with his new toy. Each bonk caused the dog to bark.

The-Boy-Who-Foiled-a-Family-Tree

Harry Potter, the young son of James and Lily Potter, became the unwitting hero of Diagon Alley yesterday when he turned the unstable rogue member of the Black family into a harmless stuffed dog toy.

Sirius Black, who had a history of mental instability after sealing himself to the magic of his original pre-adoptive family, had attempted to attack his brother, Severus Black, and Severus' new wife, Hermione Black, in front of their own apothecary: The Nundu and the Gryphon.

Witnesses describe a rage-maddened Sirius Black storming forward with murder in his eyes and sending a Dark spell directly at the couple. Thanks to extensive shielding and wards on the storefront, the spell was negated, but the aftermath ended with the young Harry Potter grabbing hold of Sirius Black and transforming him into a cuddly plush toy.

How did little Harry get close enough to do such a thing?

James Potter confessed that in his haste to defend the store against his former best friend, his young son had "hitched a ride" on his father's Animagus form, grasped onto Sirius Black, and given Sirius a magical hug.

Thankfully, Sirius Black had already been wrapped tightly in silk and pinned in place before little Harry had his way with him, as it were.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, after having performed numerous scans on the plush in question, fitted the toy with a specially enchanted collar to ensure nothing will happen in the future should the spell eventually wear off, then returned the toy to the arms of young Harry Potter.

"Accidental wandless magic performed by very young children is extremely powerful and most often purely selfish in nature," Head Auror Gawain Robards stated. "I can only guess that young Harry wished for a toy that would never leave him, and his magic made it happen."

The special collar is enchanted to teleport the toy (or changed form) to a special holding cell in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as to not endanger young Mr Potter in case whatever enchantment does wear off. Multiple groups of experts have scanned the enchantment including a few that specialise in childhood wandless accidental magic.

"Usually childhood incidents are reversible. They are often emotionally charged, which makes it stronger than something we, as adults, would normally be capable of due to our control. Later in life, we exchange that raw power for control, lest we be a danger to everyone around us. An adult with no conscious control over their magic having a temper tantrum could have dire effects not so unlike that found in adults who have suffered brain injuries or children who were so oppressed that they became hosts for the magical parasite called the Obscurial (or Obscurus)—perhaps one of the most dangerous beasts in that loss of control allows it free, but it itself is difficult if not impossible to control due to the power of the repressed emotion," Master Healer Codsworth from the St Mungo's Children's Ward. "I've consulted on many cases, but transfiguration from human into an object usually wears off quickly due to the child's age and magic reserves. This case is quite exceptional in that it seems quite permanent thanks to the young lad's deeply seated need for a companion that will not leave him. All attempts to exchange the transfigured plush dog with a replacement have not fooled the boy. "

Orion Black, whom many consider the decisive Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, could only state that had young Harry Potter not taken Sirius into his own hands (quite literally) that he would have been forced to disown Sirius from the family tree and strip him of his family magic as per the oldest family magic the Black family has known. "It would have been the last resort to bring him back to sanity—sometimes the Black family magic can be too much for an individual."

Toussaint let out an extra toothy yawn as he used one paw to corral a cheeky little mini-gryphlet from getting into trouble. The gryphlet let out a soft chirr of mischief denied, tail swishing as the rest of his body was pinned by a paw and claws.

Cadbury licked his face and ears, grooming his fur.

"Poor things can't get into any trouble with you two on guard, eh, Cadbury?" Shadowstalker asked with a laugh.

The Nundu mrowled and seemed quite smug as her partner rubbed her ears and then under her chin. She purred with appreciation.

"Are the mini-gryphs causing trouble again, Softfoot?" Hermione asked, poking her head around the kitchen door.

"Pleasure denied them," Shadowstalker said, laughing.

Upon seeing Hermione, the mini-gryph squirmed to get to her, and Toussaint let the bundle of mischief go. The mini-gryph pounced her feet and then lifted his forelegs to be lifted up.

Hermione picked the beast up and cuddled him. "Troublemaker," she admonished, rubbing his belly.

The little gryphon looked at her adoringly, giving off chirping giggles as she rubbed his belly fur and under his chin.

Hermione put the mini-gryph over her shoulder, allowing him to dangle from both sides. The little beast purr-churred in approval, his leonine tail flicking lazily to fwop against her cheek from time to time with a soft thumping sound.

"The boys out finding that lost witch at sea?" Softfoot asked.

Hermione nodded. "Severus refuses to let me go out there and wipe the floor with idiots 'in my condition'," she said, her lips puckering to the side as her eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, he knows that a female gryphon has a habit of eating her problems after tearing them into small, bite sized pieces."

Hermione huffed. "Really? I do have some control."

Shadowstalker laughed. "Who is to say that someone doesn't do something really, really stupid and it triggers an instinctive need to tear them to pieces."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose, but you should know that if anyone is going to tear someone to pieces for stupidity, it would be Severus," she retorted.

Softfoot laughed heartily, startling the Nundu and the mini-gryph.

Hermione went to the window and opened it, allowing the mini-gryph to leap out and join his fellows in "helping" tend the hippogriff paddock. Unlike humans, mini-gryphs had no respect for hippogriffs unless they showed it first, so the hippogriffs were bowing to them instead.

"At least the hippogriffs aren't tearing each other to pieces anymore. I think Toussaint gave the one male a serious talking to—with his teeth." Hermione shrugged. "Must have been one of Hagrid's old besties. Stubborn, spoiled, and refused to do anything without a bow and a ferret involved. Well—for the first day or two."

Shadowstalker grinned. "How are you liking the double paycheck?" he asked, chuckling. "Not many people can say they work for the Department of Mysteries and Hogwarts at the same time. Hunter-Seekers at that."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head as she plucked a bucket off a fluffy spider's head and sent him scurrying off.

"Our Head Boss of Us saves us the more interesting cases, but she is kind enough to accomodate for our unusual circumstances. Severus and I take turns teaming with Regulus for most jobs, leaving one of us to man the fort, as the say. Sometimes, however, it takes the three of us."

"That Bradburn case," Shadowstalker said. "It's you three and Windsong and myself, not to mention Toussaint, Marahute, and Cadbury."

"I don't think I've ever seen Amelia so cross," Hermione confessed. "She never likes to show all her cards, but the fact that the Ministry waited until they were lost for a month before contacting her—that entire family was lucky to be alive."

"Good thing Cadbury's nose works in bogs," Softfoot said, scratching his head.

The Nundu raised her head, hearing her name.

"Oh, don't you worry, my lass," Shadowstalker said with a laugh. "You're on maternity leave with Hermione here."

Cadbury purred and rolled over.

"Feels odd being on maternity leave when I have a nest full of eggs in the next room."

"Happily incubated by a rampaging horde of mini-gryphons."

Hermione laughed. "That too. One extra hippogryph egg thanks to that fight in the paddock," she added sadly, her eyebrows doing the frowning for her. "I'll admit, I didn't expect hippogriffs to lay eggs. I thought they were sufficiently mammalian for live birthing. This is why I'm not the Care of Magical Creature professor."

Softfoot laughed. "Could have fooled me with your Entourage of creatures tending your home."

Hermione grinned. "I don't have to teach anyone about them."

"Kettleburn says thanks to you and Severus, the creatures on the grounds are far less spunky about trying to remove his remaining limbs."

"Spunky? Is that what he calls them?" Hermione snorted. "They were terribly spoilt. I think that was a remainder of Hagrid's way of treating them. He did, admittedly, train the thestrals to harness for the carriages well enough. As for the hippogriffs, the mini-gryphs seem to be much better attitude adjusters in that case—OI! Get your face out of my fanged geraniums!"

Hermione watched the squirrel get a rump and face full of geranium fangs as the brassed-off flowers defended their turf with toothy abandon.

"Aw, pets," Hermione cooed, gently stroking the irritated flowers. "Squirrels just can't help but dig in your soil." She pat the soil back down and gave the flowers some water that formed in her hand and then dribbled down her fingers into the soil.

The geraniums rustled and rubbed up against her skin, seemingly happy again.

Hermione pulled a small bottle from the shelf and carefully dripped one drop into each flower's "mouth" and tickled them under their petals. Each geranium seemed to purr and promptly gave her a donation of fangs into her palm. "It's Severus' new fertiliser her developed. They love it."

"So I see," Shadowstalker said with a chuckle. "I've never seen someone collect geranium fangs so easily—save the ones who just irritate the hell out of them and pluck them from their skin."

Hermione snorted. "Those are sub-par quality. The human body fluids ruin the purity."

"It's no wonder your apothecary is known for its quality ingredients."

Hermione smiled. "Rabastan and Rodolphus would never stand for anything less than the highest grade. They often say that if people want substandard ingredients, they can go somewhere else."

Softfoot guffawed. "Sounds right for those two. I know our Amelia won't order our field kits from anyone else. Even Mungo's is in a holding pattern for Severus' potions."

Hermione smiled, her expression thoughtful. "I am glad he is getting the recognition he deserves for all of his hard work." She poured Softfoot some tea and opened a tin of biscuits. "Minerva's very best. You know you want some."

"Oh, Merlin, yes," he replied digging into the tin with his hand.

Cadbury's head lay on his head instantly, a loud purr of "gimmeh" loudly proclaimed.

Shadowstalker sighed, handing her one, and she skillfully took the biscuit into her mouth with her tongue. "Spoiled rotten is what you are, furry beast."

Cadbury purred and padded back over next to Toussaint and flopped back down, sharing her tasty prize with her mate. The moment their muzzles touched, the biscuit enlarged to a more Nundu-friendly size, and the pair happily crunched away at the buttery shortbread goodness.

Softfoot chuckled. "Charmed biscuits?"

Hermione smiled. "Minerva thinks of everything. She's been very accommodating to us since the Board of Governors unanimously voted for us to take up a permanent position caring for the grounds here. I think, but I cannot be quite sure, that they leaned on Dumbledore."

"You do realise that many other schools would practically murder to have a mated pair of gryphons guarding their grounds?" Softfoot teased. "Doubly so for a mated pair of gryphons that have human forms?"

Hermione snorted. "Who's to say that gryphons don't all have that ability, hrm? Has anyone ever asked?"

"Would anyone think to dare, more like," he replied.

Hermione tapped her nose. "Well spotted. I don't think that Headmaster Dumbledore is in agreement with the Board, but they weren't exactly giving him a choice in the matter after Professor Babbling magically gave all the house-elves clothes in order to free them from slavery. The Nifflers. The Gnome-hunting Bandicoots—nothing was sacred."

"That's the Hodgkins Babbling bloke, right? Considering how much you pay for a permit to introduce the Gnome-hunting Bandicoots to a new area, he must have royally pissed off a lot of people."

Hermione sighed. "And then some. Thankfully they go where the gnomes are, and Hogwarts does have a lot of gnomes. It's the only thing they eat, from what I've been told. As for the elves, I am now convinced that there are two kinds of house-elf. The kind that truly take pride in their work and want nothing more than to serve their beloved family or place—and those that just don't fit in no matter where they go. Like that drunken elf Fudgy in the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry whose sole claim to glory is making decaffeinated drinks."

Shadowstalker shook his head. "Who wants decaffeinated drinks at half four in the morning? That is just wrong."

Hermione laughed. "Severus developed his 'Wake-Up' drops for hot and cold drinks especially for that. Amelia liked them so much she's having the Department pay him for rights so they can go into the field kits."

Softfoot gasped. "And no one told me?! I'm going to have to have a word with her. It's bad enough trying to deal with Windsong in the morning without his tea being properly well-caffeinated."

"Truly any elf that works at the Department of Magical Transportation shouldn't be distributing decaffeinated drinks," Hermione said. "Who wants someone falling asleep at the wheel of the Knight Bus?"

"Personally, I think the drivers of the Knight Bus are all on something," Softfoot said dryly. "It's amazing to me that anyone gets anywhere in one piece."

"I say the same thing about brooms, to be fair," Hermione said. "Feels unsafe."

"Psh, you have your own wings," Softfoot teased. "Brooms would hardly be necessary." He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"The guest room is ready for you, you overworked public servant," Hermione said. "Just don't blame me if you end up with mini-gryphs cuddling you for warmth."

Softfoot grinned disarmingly as he saluted. "I swear the roles are reversed. We used to take care of you two,and now you're taking care of us old dodgers."

"Bah, old is relative in Wizard years, shoo! Go to sleep."

"Yes'um," he said, trudging off to the guest room.

Cadbury watched him go but didn't bother moving from her mate's side.

"How are you doing, Cadbury?" Hermione asked.

Cadbury rolled on her side, exposing her belly for inspection.

Hermione lay her hands on her belly and felt around, feeling the squirming of her unborn cubs moving inside. She lay her head against her belly and smiled. "They're going to be quite a handful, love," she said, grinning.

Cadbury mrowled and thumped Hermione down into a cuddle, surrounding her in a feline power hug.

Hermione shifted into her gryphlet form and cuddled the Nundu right back.

Time passes like a runaway Hogwarts Express…

"Come on, Ron. Let's go out on the green. Professor McGonagall said we could go enjoy the picnic and meet the centaur herd today. Real centaurs, mate! Let's go!"

Ron groaned. "But it's a ruddy forest," he whinged. "There are loads of creepy spiders in the forest."

"Ron, you inhale spiders in your sleep. I don't see why it matters if there is a spider in the forest," Harry snapped. "That's like me saying I don't like going places where people have red hair."

"That's different! That's your family!" Ron blurted.

"Hey, bro!" a taller Gryffindor called. "Ready to go meet some centaurs?" He eyed Ron with clear disapproval. "Hey, Ronald."

"Hey, Sean." Ron said, equally unhappy.

"You kidding? I'm totally ready!" Harry enthused. "Did mum write you a Howler for trying to sneak a broom into school?"

Sean sighed. "Are you kidding? Dad sent me a howler saying if I ever do something that stupid again, he's going to sell me to the Nundu and the Gryphon for potion ingredients!"

Harry shuddered. "You should have known better. The moment Ginger gets wind of some injustice about something she can't have, she's off writing to mum. Brandy is the same. She stood up in class and demanded to know why some people were allowed to have familiars that weren't on the list. You missed it because you were up in the Headmaster's office."

Sean groaned. "Our sisters. I can't believe we were all born together. Maybe I was adopted?"

"Hey!" Harry protested, slugging Sean's arm.

The flaming redhead stuck out his tongue.

"Why, Messrs Potter. Mr Weasley. Shouldn't you all be out—enjoying the rare Scottish warmth?" a low baritone drawl startled the pair. Yet, while Harry and Sean perfectly looked happy, Ronald's pale face expressed otherwise.

"We should go!" Ron whispered, tugging on the two brothers.

"Hunter-Seeker," Harry and Sean chimed together, bowing slightly. "Uncle Severus," they added, cheekily.

The dark-haired wizard gave them a tight smile. "Your father has requested that, despite your horrible choice to bring his old broom to school with you," he said, giving Sean a pointed eyebrow, "that I provide you with appropriate gifts to take to the centaur today so you do not insult Magorian and end up setting yourselves on fire. Pity, that would've been so entertaining."

Sean flushed crimson, and Harry stepped on Sean's foot with a told-you-so look painted distinctively on his face.

"My wife, despite my encouraging her to let your sisters wallow in social awkwardness for their own health, is taking care that your sisters bring proper gifts as well."

Ron looked positively pale and ready to hurl, but Harry and Sean grinned. "We get to meet THE Magorian? The one who married you and Auntie Ari?"

Severus sniffed. "While I have not met another Magorian, it is possible that this one is actually a different Magorian who devours disobedient children."

Harry and Sean were not dissuaded and smiled together.

Severus pulled small bundles out of from a pouch on his belt and tapped them with his wand. He gave each of his cheeky nephews a haunch of venison to take with them, each wrapped skillfully in waterproof-charmed cloth and spider silk cords. He took out another bundle and made it larger—a basket filled with potions, salves, and ointments.

"Be careful with this basket. You wouldn't want to—blow yourself up."

Severus' voice had an immediate effect on Ron, who was trying in vain to make himself look small enough to disappear behind the other two boys.

"Thank you, Uncle!" Harry and Sean said together. They skillfully avoided hugging the dark wizard in front of Ron, but they carefully cradled their gifts for the centaur in their arms and took the basket between them.

Severus sniffed, waving one hand, and the basket became lighter, allowing the boys to hurry off slightly less encumbered. "Amazing that all five mini-Potters have survived to school age. Now they just have to survive their parents' wrath."

"Mrowl!" Mrs Norris said, rubbing up against his dragonhide boots.

"Hn," Severus said, picking up the unrepentant feline offender.

Mrs Norris purred and bonked her head into his chin.

"There you are!" Argus said as he shuffled up in a hurry. "Sorry, Master Snape. She's so incorrigible."

"It is fine. Between Nundu cubs, visiting hellhound pups, one family-displaced hippogriff, and three mischievous gryphlets, one snuggle-seeking feline seems surprisingly lacking drama. Are you going to the picnic, Mr Filch?"

"I uh—" Argus stammered. "I didn't think I was invited."

"You work here at Hogwarts, do you not?" Severus asked, eyebrow arching.

Argus looked at his feet. "Yes, but—"

Severus shoved a parcel into Argus' arms that enlarged as he did so. "Here, take this. Give it to Magorian when you thank him for inviting you. You can't miss him. He's the one in charge."

Argus' face brightened. "T-thank you, Master Snape. I will."

"Hn," Severus replied, shooing away him with one hand. "Enjoy the picnic." He skillfully transferred his feline interloper back to Argus.

Three tawny and black gryphlet-shaped blurs, one young hippogriff trying desperately to fit in, a mix and match part of Nundu cubs, and a disgustingly hyper and happy hellhound came zooming down from the Headmaster's office and away to the Forbidden Forest. The distinctive sweet-tart odour of lemon sherbets made Severus' nose tingle.

Severus' ear twitched as he heard the Headmaster pleading with the gargoyle to please let him stand up.

He found himself smiling despite himself. The previously gloomy future that Severus Snape had been forced to endure was no longer a possibility thanks to the work of one young witch who honoured the dead and thus impressed Death himself. And he—

Severus looked at his left arm, alive with the scratches and marks of so many playful gryphlets, Nundu cubs, baby hippogriffs, and even hellhound pups. He would take those marks of overzealous play over a future where a bloodthirsty megalomaniac's possessive Dark magic tattoo ruled both his past and future and killed his only childhood friend.

He and Lily may not have ever regained what they had had in their youth, but when his fingers rubbed the wedding band on his left ring finger, he knew that what he had now was so much more.

They might assist their Lord Father in escorting the souls from life to what lay beyond, but it was a duty taken gladly. Even as they did their duty in Death's service, they had each other. Even as Hunter-Seekers, they had found true purpose. As a potions master and with Ari at the helm of their business, the Nundu and the Gryphon Apothecary, they supplied top quality products all around the world. James Potter—once the bane of his entire life—was now, beyond all expectations, both friend and partner in the business. The Lestrange brothers, probably one of the few who knew Ari and Severus' connection to Death, had helped secure the success of their business across Britain and beyond. The bond between himself and the House of Black had given him the gift of family thrice over, and having Regulus as his true brother brought him no small measure of peace. Even Sirius had found himself the victim of karma even after the Headmaster himself had failed to bring him to justice. And Lupin—

He was finally able to say that he was glad that the werewolf had separated himself from the influence of Sirius Black. Merlin, he even had a job at Hogwarts as the History of Magic teacher.

There had been a time when he had wished him just as horrible a fate as he could imagine for James Potter and Sirius Black as well as the snivelling little sycophant, Pettigrew.

Yet he had learned to forgive. Lily, James, Remus—even Dumbledore.

How could he have even dreamed of such wonder and fate?

As he watched his mate herd up their wayward, mischievous gryphlets, their adopted hippogriff, the Nundu cubs, and the hellhound pups he found himself laughing—truly laughing. His laughter echoed off the sides of Hogwarts, filling it with mirth.

Toussaint proceeded to sit on his cubs, the gryphlets, the hippogriff, and the hellhound pups, pinning them all down with his massive bulk. The foiled youth squirmed and wriggled, thwarted.

Hermione turned to him, giving him a broad smile and a thumbs up.

Warmth filled his body from head to toe. The smile, like Ari herself, was his, by her own choice—and he was hers. Always.

When Albus saw the figure walking across the green from his office, he frowned, thinking it was one of the Board members strolling the grounds without having sent notice first. The figure was dressed from head to toe in dreary black, and he wondered if the Board had any colour sense at all.

The supposed guardians of Hogwarts had just let them stroll right in.

Dumbledore set off to intercept them, whoever they were pulling on his bond to Hogwarts to Apparate ahead of the visitor.

"Father!" Hermione rushed over to embrace her visitor.

"Hello, my daughter," the figure said, pulling the hood down from his head. He enfolded her with a warm embrace. "How are Ariel, Liam, and Devin?"

"Grandfather!"

"Neeeeeeheheheeheh!"

Three excited children and one young hippogriff rushed to him, and he scooped each one up individually. He hugged them and then knelt down to ruffle the hippogriff's softer young feathers. "And you too, my little adoptee," he said with a chuckle.

"Grandpa, grandpa, can we see your face?"

"Please!"

"Please?"

He sighed, giving them an all-suffering look.

"Please, grandpa?"

He winked at Hermione, and stood a little straighter, seemingly shrugging as if to shed a cloak off his shoulders. He swivelled his neck, his head going from side to side as his human face turned into that of a bleach-boned skull with glowing green flame orbs for eyes.

"Yay!" the children cheered, making adoring squeaks and happy noises, their hands oh so reverently touching his face. Death knelt as his skull head dipped to the hooked beak of a hippogriff skull, and he gently nuzzled the happy hippogriff adoptee.

"Will you tell us a story, Grandpa?"

"Please, oh please?"

"Please, Grandpa?

The young children all took on their gryphlet forms and looked up at him adoringly.

Death shimmered into his skeletal gryphon form and tucked them all under his wings. "Very well. My story begins a long time ago as mortals measure time in a place not so far from this…"

There were once two brothers and a sister who had a mother and father who loved them very much. They were all magical, as their family was well-known to be, but the father's family was deeply rooted in the Wizarding world while the mother was born of Muggles.

Still, the love between then was very great, and they had two sons and one daughter, each making their parents so very proud.

The brothers both loved their sister, but they could not watch her all the time any more than their tired mother could watch over the three of them at all times. One day, while the mother slept, the daughter wandered out into the yard and played, and like most magical children, magic tended to flare up and follow her needs regardless of her control.

The older brother was asked to watch over her, but he was but a child as well. Both brothers were, and they were not so focused as any adult. They got to playing gobstones with each other, not noticing that their sister had wandered from the room.

She played with stones in the yard, moving them about with her hands but also with her magic, and the fence that surrounded the yard was not so high as to block the sight of her from random passersby.

She performed her magic, oblivious to its significance, and the neighbour boys eventually spotted her and discovered her magical oddities. They beat her terribly for it, sparing her no amount of pain for being different and evil, for in their small minds, those things were one and the same.

The father, returning home from work, witnessed the attack on his young daughter—but was too late to stop it.

In his rage towards those who had beaten his daughter, he did serve his own justice upon them—

But when Aurors came to confront him about the attacks, he did not wish to bring his beloved, damaged daughter into the spotlight. He was sentenced to Azkaban, to the horror of his sons and wife—the daughter being far too fragile to even attend the trial.

And so, the oldest brother, being forced to be the man of the family in his father's absence, began to resent the responsibility as well as the Muggles that had set it all in motion. He believed that if he could reverse the Statute of Secrecy that long separated the magical from the Muggle, the Muggles would be forced to both accept the magical and, perhaps, even their betters.

The seed was planted, and the boy grew up, always thinking of how to make such a dream a reality. But while one brother dreamed, the other grew bitter that his brother shirked his duty onto him, robbing him of his life too.

And one day, the elder brother met a young man who was unlike any other he had met.

Together, they devised a plan to save Muggles from themselves by becoming powerful enough to break the Statute of Secrecy—

They wished to become the Masters of Death.

Together, they worked on their plan for many a year, and they even managed to obtain the Elder Wand, but before they could find the other two, the second brother's rage had finally exploded, and he confronted his brother and his compatriot on a far-away beach.

So angry was one brother that he brought his beloved, damaged, mute, and utterly volatile sister with him, bidding her stay on the beach as he stormed to his brother's side.

So blind was the other brother, that he didn't realise his sister had come with his angry brother.

A duel was called between the three, there on that lonely beach, but before any one person could get ahead of the other, the sister who loved them both threw herself between them and took a killing curse. She died there on the beach.

Stunned, all three could do nothing but stand there in horror, unable to move or speak.

They all parted ways, the younger brother bitter and blaming and the elder guilt-ridden and grieving while the friend with whom he had once shared mutual goals slowly faded into obscurity.

The brothers remained estranged even as one brother descended into his love of his goats to cope with his failures and the other attempted to save another innocent from a fate he believed his sister would have befallen had she lived.

Mistakes can happen, as we all know, and so they did.

The rise of a Dark Lord happened because of a good deed and the best of intentions, but some people are born broken, with an essential piece of themselves missing and the piece that should be there was never forged. No deed or magic could ever fill it, and no amount of killing ever brought any true emotion outside of anger to his heart.

It is quite ironic, yes?

Truly, who would have ever guessed that taking an orphaned boy into the magical world would have given the monster within the tools he needed to terrorise an entire country and bring it to its knees—

At least, that is what could have happened, had not one brave young soul realised just how much had been broken by one man's evil deeds. And she was willing to give up her own life—her entire history and family—to save those who had never been born and those whose lives had been ended too soon in a society already suffering from small numbers.

Grieving for the many over the few, one young witch, aged well beyond her years by the horrors of war, saw all too clearly the that the multitude of deaths on both sides of two crusades was a shameful condemnation of their society—a tragic waste perpetuated by one madman who had never known love and the man who had allowed him to grow up discovering the tools he could use to murder an entire society in a selfish quest for ultimate power.

She went from body to body, tending the dead while Death himself followed. It did not matter what side they fell, only that they deserved to be treated in death the same as any other. For this, she did not earn any love from either side. For this, she was viewed tainted somehow. For who could lay their hands upon the dead and not carry a part of that with them?

So when all else had turned their back upon her, she made a wish, not to destroy that which had spurned her but to give the innocent their allotted time on Earth—to allow them to make their own path without the hand of some great war, whether that be for good or bad.

It is life—and Life itself wishes all of its creatures to have but a fair chance to grow and flourish and truly be themselves. Will there still be orphans, you might ask? Yes. Will baby sea turtles still die upon the beach to feed the predators that must feed their own young? Yes, but these are natural things, sad to those who value the life of all things but natural nonetheless.

But genocide, no matter how clear the alleged reason, is not. A person is not a meteor that destroys a world with its impact. It is not a flood that sweeps a world with its destructive embrace. The thinking being is not a voracious locust to descend upon a land and strip it clean of everything in unthinking droves, and that is where the mind did fail.

For that one boy, who may have never been a good man, was destined to be a troubled boy who grew into a terrible man—but just a man—not a force of terror to a people already suffering.

So, Death did hear this witch's inner plea to see things made right, and he consulted with Life. Life did give Her blessing to do what was in his heart, and he did take the witch into his Get, his bloodline, his Family, both to preserve her spark and allow her to do what he could not—set right what had been knocked off-kilter, to give each and every life a fighting chance.

Would some die anyway? Perhaps.

They would, however, have the chance to do it on their own terms in the struggle of life and death that every living creature faces.

There will always be hatred and bigotry, you see, but there will also be its opposite. The irony is that hatred and bigotry can exist in the same being as love and acceptance, but the right conditions must be there for one to rise up in dominance over the other.

So, I must ask you.

Do you take the side of one or the other, or do you take the hardest path of all—to tread the line in the middle, allowing the other two to rise or fall by their own choices?

"We choose to be with you, Grandpa!" the gryphlets hummed together, their eyes bright and wings flapping with excitement.

Death gathered his grandchildren to him, smiling as they snuggled him mercilessly.

He stilled suddenly and stood, his head turning slowly. "Did you enjoy the story, Albus?"

The elder wizard paled as Death turned to look him in the eyes, the fiery orbs of flame flicking in his skull-face. "You have lived a very long life, made a great many mistakes, but perhaps you have finally admitted them to yourself. You wished to become the Master of Death. I ask you. Do you still wish to be?"

Dumbledore swallowed hard, visibly discomfited. He clutched at his chest, perhaps unconsciously.

"Mortals are blessed," Death said, rising up to his full height, which seemed to tower even without any effort on his part. "They have a beginning and an end, and between it lies a life filled with so many things. Beyond it, lies the great Mystery that only the truly brave can greet with open arms. Tell me, Albus. Are you brave?"

"Those of my Get must give up this gift—this choice—and none have until most recently in the here and now, the then and later, the past and gone. We exist in all these places to pick up the pieces of mortal choices. So—I feel I owe you this one kindness for bringing my beloved son and daughter to me, my grandchildren. I will, just this once, give you a choice that most will never have. Your heart is failing you. It can be now—or it can be three days from now. You could, if you choose, use that time to make your peace with those you have—injured along your way. You could, if you wished, bring peace between you and your brother, or appreciate the gift of the life you were given that you were allowed to live such a long, healthy life. Many would choose to flee in the face of Death. Will you?"

The gryphlets all turned in unison along with one hippogriff. Their bodies were skin spread across bone, their faces skeletal but for twin flames in their eyes. Their wings were plumed in ethereal feathers. Beaks open, they cried out together. Beside Death stood two fully grown gryphons cloaked in wispy ethereal fur and feathers, their skull-faces seeming to contort and change in the dim light of their flame-eyes—one the colours of sun through the most finely-aged cognac.

Death put one hand on each of the larger gryphons, his skeletal hands caressing their phantom feathers and skulls that gleamed like the moon.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore bowed his head. "I would appreciate three days to settle my affairs."

Death cocked his head and then nodded. He pressed the tip of one bony finger to Dumbledore's sternum as a soft blue glow surrounded his failing heart. "Three days, Albus. Do not squander the gift you have been given."

Albus took a deep breath. "I have always told myself that I would not fear the next great adventure," he said, "but I thank you for giving me the time to take care of what needs to be done."

The glows from the entire family of skeletal beings grew very, very bright until Albus could see nothing else.

He squinted in the brightness as it faded, and he found himself standing in the Headmaster's office, looking out over the Hogwarts green. The soft glow of a hearth fire lit the caretakers' residence as the even softer sound of children laughing drifted up from below. He touched his chest and closed his eyes, remembering well the progressive tiredness he'd been feeling for several weeks now. He'd shooed Poppy off every time she'd asked to examine him, casually dismissing her growing concern.

He couldn't really complain. Many times he'd almost died—should have died. He had as many sins as he had accolades, but only he had been so oblivious as to bring about the rise of two Dark Lords while thinking himself clean of the stain of guilt.

He'd always figured he would die in some flamboyant fashion, in the midst of one last great battle for the Light, but he had long since forgotten who was on his team. The old scorecards seemed to be so terribly blurred these days.

The truth was, Albus had grown quite weary—of himself and his checkered history.

He'd shamefully ignored his sister far too often, then tried to pay for that by seeking revenge for her death.

He'd fallen under the spell and allure of Grindelwald and almost helped him to become the Master of Death—

He'd not reported Tom to Dippet when he suspected him of being the one to release the true beast from the bowels of the Chamber of Secrets—

Proof or no, there was only one amongst the denizens of Hogwarts who was a Parseltongue and it wasn't Rubeus Hagrid.

He'd let Hagrid stay on, despite multiple occurrences of secret illegal breeding without a permit as well as releasing the beasts he created into the Forbidden Forest making it impossible for children to visit there without supervision.

He'd dismissed so many terrible deeds as boys being boys instead of punishing them as they deserved—as Minerva had so often pleaded with him to do.

He'd been prejudiced against Slytherin as much as any true bigot, assuming that means to an end always meant the darkest of intentions.

But the most evil had come from Gryffindor.

He had been the one to bring Riddle to Hogwarts.

He had been the one to support Grindelwald.

He had been the one to let the "boyish pranks" get out of hand.

Worse, he had even counselled Lily Evans that the company she kept might influence her ability to get job offers she she had asked him for advice about what to do between herself and her childhood friend.

He was such a hypocrite—he who had loved and followed a man who would be a Dark Lord up until his sister threw herself in the middle of a three-way duel. He had no right to judge her for being friends with a boy who happened to be Slytherin.

Dumbledore sat down at his desk, pulling a quill to his hand and dipping it into the inkwell.

There were so many things he had to take care of before the sand in the hourglass finally ran out.

"I wish to apologise to you, Aberforth," Albus said as he pulled him aside before the dinner began. "Words cannot express the regret I feel for the rift that has grown between us. Actions—every time I tried, it seemed I made a bigger fool of myself. I did not accept my responsibilities to our family as well as I should have. I dreamed of being free, but I lost sight of what was truly important. I know a few words can hardly make up for decades of strife, but—"

Albus' words were cut off by Aberforth's tight embrace—and his silent but true-felt relief. A rush of magic blasted out from them, and the line of goats that had followed him to the supper turned into a number of baffled-looking witches.

Aberforth had to sit down hard as Minerva pushed an utterly gobsmacked Albus aside to rush over and hurriedly clothe the poor ex-nanny goats.

"I had always wondered how your goats never seemed to die, Aberforth. I figured that perhaps you just had a thing for a very specific look in your goats. Since I had not the slightest idea when it comes to goats—"

Aberforth just babbled something that may or may not have been in Yiddish.

Suddenly, a trio of young gryphlets and one adorable hippogriff popped in and used their charms to lure the ladies out of the room and to what could only be assumed was the infirmary.

"How those gryphlets always seem to know, I'll never know," Minerva said. "Don't you worry, Aberforth. They'll take them to the infirmary and Poppy's apprentice will sort them all out."

She led him to the dinner table. "So, what's the occasion, Albus?"

Albus stroked his beard. "I wish to announce my retirement, Minerva. I've talked it over with the Board, and they'll be speaking to you about the details of becoming the Headmistress of Hogwarts. It should have been done long ago. But I stood in the way of it, and for that, I am truly sorry. You have been more than ready,and deserving and I have long overdue to hand over the reins of leadership. Consider this dinner my apology to you both for being—sadly unappreciative of what was right in front of me. I have come to realise that in seeking to make amends in the way I did, I was only making things worse."

"I wished to ask you—I want to make a trust. I never had a mate with whom to share my life or fortune, but I want to create a charitable fund to establish classes for Muggleborn students and parents to take before their child comes to Hogwarts to teach them about the Magical world before diving into the magical world head first—so they don't unintentionally offend or get taken advantage of. It will be a great boon for you, Minerva, in the years to come and for the children and their families as well. There will be, of course, a small stipend every year for taking care of this for me—I think you'll be quite pleased. The goblins were very clear that there is plenty in interest to cover the costs of classes each year, provide emergency funds for low-income families, and with plenty to spare to cover any of your own expenses. I would be honoured if you both would consider it. Not for me, but for the children coming who never knew they were in danger—or how close we came to losing Hogwarts without anyone ever knowing. The trust should cover hiring a teacher specifically for this class and cover any materials you might wish to make to hand out. The goblins have agreed to allow for tours and a lesson on the basics of Wizarding banking—and the centaurs have decided to host a short centaur etiquette program as well, something I think will help soothe the misunderstandings many of the children have had with the centaurs in the past. All the details can be found in here," he said, patting a leather-bound tome on the table.

Minerva and Aberforth stared at him like he'd grown a second head that looked disturbingly like Hagrid's.

"Do try the potato and spring onion soup," Albus said. "Old family recipe. As are the yeast rolls."

"Is this mum's—"

Albus smiled. "I didn't ignore everything mum tried to teach us," he said.

In the middle of the soup, Minerva and Aberforth said together, "I'll do it."

Albus smiled and clapped his hands. The next round of food appeared, fragrant pan-seared wild salmon fillets with lemon asparagus and baby carrots, courtesy of the Hogwarts house-elves, along with a few decanters of elf-made wine. He poured the wine into the chalices and raised one to toast. "To those we most value, whether we realise it or not. May they know we truly appreciate them."

They clinked their glasses together.

"Whatever is that?" Rodolphus asked as he poked his brother on the arm. He peered into the large wooden crate that had arrived by courier—quite a strange thing in the Wizarding world.

"You—I—"

"Articulate, brother." Rabastan looked into the crate and found a well-padded, break and spill-proof crystal tank containing a number of bright red bulbs that seemed to throb like a heartbeat. His eyes widened. "That can't be what I think it is."

"That depends, Rab, what exactly do you think it is?"

"Erm," Rabastan said. "I'm not a hundred percent certain but I believe those are well over a million galleons' worth of Witch's Ganglion bulbs."

"Yup."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"I'm waiting for Severus to have his say on what it is for sure, but my galleons are on it being Witch's Ganglion too."

"What's the tag say? Who is this from?"

"Albus Dumbledore—it says: 'I let you down when I could have saved you from Bellatrix. I did not, then, believe it was my place to interfere, but I realised after that in not doing so, I had taken away your options. I hope that this small token of sincere apology will serve you well in your most excellent business'."

"Wow."

The two brothers sat down together just staring at the box when James shuffled in carrying a giant bag of Peruvian Shadow-crabs. Every time they clacked their pincers, they created a dark cloud that deposited a darker than dark powder over everything. "Hey, did you guys order crabs—oh, is that Witch's Ganglion? That stuff is worth more than half the vaults in Gringotts!"

"Dumbledore sent it," the Lestrange brothers said.

James stood, dumbfounded, as one of the crabs pinched his nose, covering his entire head with an inky black cloud of impenetrable darkness.

Orion walked in from the back rooms, ticking off things on a clipboard. He plucked the crab off James' face without even bothering to look up, tickling it under the belly, and placing it on his shoulder. The Peruvian Shadow-crab clacked in agreement, turning Orion's robes even more black.

James and the Lestrange brothers stared at the elder wizard. "How does he do that?"

All the crabs struggled free of the sack and followed Orion around the store, enraptured. A Niffler sat on Orion's other shoulder and handed over bottles to help stock the shelves.

James sighed. "When we figure that one out, even the world's greatest mysteries will seem small in comparison."

"Hey, Harry."

"Yeah, bro?"

"What did you think of Dumbledore's strange speech tonight?"

"Strange speeches happen every night here, Sean."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Stranger than usual, then. It was all uplifting and 'forgive your neighbour' kind of stuff."

"Honestly I wasn't paying much attention because Ron was stuffing his face with honey barbecue chicken wings and getting the sauce all over everyone."

"Ew, nasty."

"Lucky you were sitting further down the table."

"Where I will stay from now on, thanks for the warning."

"Retiring though, that really is something," Harry mused. "That means Auntie McGonagall will become Headmistress."

"Finally, some sanity! Could you see her taking any of the shite in her house that Dumbledore did?"

"Ron will spend the rest of his life in detention," Harry said, his lips quirking upward.

"More the happy us," Sean said. "And by us, I mean Gryffindor."

"Obviously," Harry said.

"Psh, now you sound like Uncle Severus."

"Is that so bad?"

"No, but you don't billow nearly enough."

Harry threw a book at him, which his brother caught. They laughed together.

"Ginger billows," Harry noted. "Even more than Amber and Brandy do."

"She adores our Uncle," Sean said. "Much to mum's distress."

"Why do you think that is?" Harry asked. "They grew up together, right?"

Sean shrugged. "I think it reminds her of something. You see it when she looks at Auntie Ari and Uncle Severus together. Kinda like Brandy when she gets caught with her hand in the biscuit tin after midnight, yeah?"

Harry pondered. "I wonder what she could feel guilty about?"

Sean wrinkled his nose. "I dunno, maybe she tried to steal his secret recipe for the perfect Beef Wellington."

Harry grinned. "We've been trying to for years."

"I think I figured out how to do it."

Oh?" Harry asked, interested.

"We convince Nyx to give us a copy."

The brothers grinned together. "Excellent."

"Oi!" a familiar voice said. "You going to leave us out of mischief? We're totally the kings of mischief."

Fred and George Weasley wiggled their eyebrows at Harry and Sean.

"We're the kings of mischief," Sean said, pulling the twins closer and began to whisper as grins spread from boy to boy.

Dumbledore stood in the ancient cell, frowning as the accommodations were less than negligent. No matter, he thought. Tomorrow, they would move Gellert to a new cell with a real bed and at least some basic comforts. He may have been a danger to society as a whole, but even he deserved to be treated like a human being.

The man in the corner lifted his head, his long white hair hanging like shrouds around his face. Only his eyes remained the same as he remembered—strikingly different and sharp in the greys of Nurmengard.

Grindelwald was a dangerous man with or without his wand, so he wore permanent accessories that fused to his core. If he attempted any magic, Dumbledore knew he would not live very long after. His own magical core would destroy him. His magic would destroy him from the inside out.

"Gellert," Albus said. He, too, had no wand upon visiting, but he brought some things to ease his suffering in the bleak stone prison: a softer, clean set of clothes, a warm blanket, a bedroll. Tomorrow, Albus knew, Gellert would have more, but for this one night, at least, he would have something he remembered.

The clothes were an old favourite, spun of the fine silks of the orient. It wasn't Acromantula silk or magical, but it had been something Gellert admired for its beauty and the skill that ensured it could be made without magic. The blanket and bedroll were from a time long past when he and Albus had once scraped by in a Muggle city as they plotted how to become the Masters of Death. They had worked together to make them comfortable, warm. Back then, they had been allies, friends.

"Gellert," Dumbledore said. He wrinkled his nose at the filthy, threadbare mat he had to sleep on. With no magic to allow him to make it less horrible, it remained worse than sleeping outside under the stars. He unrolled the bedroll and set it down with the blanket and clothes.

"Away from me, demon," Gellert hissed. "I know you are not real!"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "It is I, Gellert. For the greater good," he said, stating the phrase they had, together, forged a friendship with.

"Albus?"

"Hello, old friend," Albus said, pained to see that one who had been so proud and confident now so weak and frail.

"Why are you here?" Gellert asked, his hand pulling the blanket towards him as he wrapped it around himself with trembling hands.

Albus wondered if the tremble was real or yet another lie. Gellert had always been good at the artful lie. The half-truth.

Yet—without magic, Gellert was like a Muggle. Perhaps he really was—fragile.

"I've come to say goodbye, old friend," Albus said, "and to tell you some of my best memories were with you. I never wished this for you, Gellert. Even knowing we fought for our lives, I never desired this end for you."

"Even though I jinxed your brother?"

Albus was silent for a time. "It was a really good jinx. A very intuitive release. You knew the chances of Aberforth ever hugging me willingly was not likely to happen, if ever."

"Yet, here you are, Albus. Even knowing what I did. Why?"

Albus sighed heavily. "We've lived a long time, Gellert," he said after a while. "I may not agree with the dream we once shared, but I still remember the two young men who swore an oath never to fight each other. Neither of us did that idly at the time we made it, despite what came later."

Albus closed his eyes, wistful. "I still remember our better times. Ariana would not wish us to remain estranged forever."

Gellert's eyes closed. "Even if I killed her?"

Albus turned his head to look out the small slit of a window. "We have both done horrible things, regretful things, and Ariana—even then she wanted to help us stop fighting."

Gellert sighed heavily. "Of any regret I may have, hers I remember most." His gaze was far away. "We were good once. Together."

"We were," Albus replied, his expression sorrowful.

"We could have succeeded," Gellert said. "We could have found the Hollows and done away with the Statute of Secrecy."

"Yes," Albus agreed.

"We mucked it up royally, didn't we?" Gellert said.

Albus nodded slowly. "Yes. We did."

Gellert seemed to slump even further against the wall. "I've missed you. What we were. What we could have been. We could have been gods. Can you forgive me, Albus? For still dreaming of it?"

Albus knelt, taking Gellert's hands in his. "I forgive you, old friend. Can you forgive me for having walked away?"

Grindelwald's hands twitched, but his fingers tightened around Dumbledore's. "Would you stay with me for a while?"

Albus' eyes softened. "Of course."

Albus walked the beach he had left behind so many years ago—the same beach his sister had died trying to stop a three-way duel between her brothers and her elder brother's cherished friend.

The sand was still warm from the day's sun, but the moonlight was soft against the grains and water.

This had once been a place of peace.

He and Gellert had once gazed on the stars and planned the future of the world, dreaming of a place where both Muggles couldn't get away with beating a child (magical or not) to the point where she couldn't control her magic ever again.

Which had caused his father to be placed in Azkaban rather than confess the real reason why he had avenged his daughter—

Which had ended up with their mother dead due to Ariana's uncontrolled magic—

Which had caused Albus to have to take care of Ariana while Aberforth was still in school.

He had tried to do the right thing, but it had still made him bitter.

He believed himself destined for better, greater things.

He'd given up a world tour with Elphias Doge upon receiving word of his mother's death.

And then, when Ariana had died, he had given up his dreams in the guilt of her death. Everything in his life had circled the same drain: Ariana.

Even now, he was unsure if he had made up for his sins or simply kept himself afloat in a churning sea.

It had to be enough. He had an entire lifetime to get to this point, and he had done both good and terrible things along the way. He hoped that he had at least done sufficient good to balance out the bad—the mistakes.

He placed his hand to his breastbone. He had lived over a hundred years and then some. He had settled his affairs, arranged for Gellert to at least have some basic comforts in his final days, however long they would be. No matter what he had done so long ago, sleeping on a bare mattress with a thin, shabby blanket was above and beyond just punishment. For Gellert, simply being forced to stay in one place would be torture enough. In prison, there was no one to influence and no dark creatures to charm. Being alone for the rest of his life was a prison all on its own for him.

The Nundu and the Gryphon Apothecaries would be set to provide grand remedies the world over—and support the families he had let down in his quest for the greater good. Minerva and his brother would be set to help the Muggleborn students get a better start at Hogwarts and have a little extra to enjoy themselves from time to time—maybe hire another bartender at the Hogshead and get to re-known the loves of his life that had been inadvertently cursed into goats by Gellert.

The rest of his fortune he had hoarded for decades—his books and remainders of his vault he put in trust to the guardians of Hogwarts. He had always suspected there was much more to that little golden gryphlet than met the eyes as if being adopted by the Black family wasn't proof enough. Now, of course, he realised just how special she was.

She'd saved Severus Snape from one of his greater mistakes. Together, they had cleaned up after him—after both Gellert and Tom as much as him. They'd even cleaned up after Rubeus, who from all accounts said he was rather enjoying his stay at the Greenland Greater Ice Tortoise Sanctuary.

It should never have gone that far, Albus confessed. If by some miracle Hagrid had beaten Orion Black in that duel it would have destroyed a family and possibly killed two members of the Black Family—Severus and Regulus had been bound my familiar magic as well as familial. The rare gryphlet may have died rather than succumb to bond with Hagrid, and Severus and Regulus may have died of the agonising broken bond.

For that, Albus bestowed his summer cottage to Orion Black to do with as he wished. The intimidating man had a way of peering deep into one's soul, but he had no doubt he would do what was right and fair with the remainder of his estate.

The gryphons would fly over Hogwarts and the Dark Forest for as long as they drew breath—and the legends said that was long as they wished it. Hogwarts couldn't be safer. He was glad of it.

Jingle. Jingle.

Albus looked up to see a young woman walking along the shore. Her wild curls ringed her head like a fluffy mane, but a fine, feathered crest rose up from the top of her head. Fawkes warbled from her shoulder, singing a gentle tune. A tiny lint ball chick sang from her other shoulder, switching from fire to electricity with each peep. Each step that the woman took, soft bells jingled, and he realised that she had jesses on her ankles like those found on a hunter's falcon.

"Hello, Albus," she said, her eyes flickered like firelight through a fine cognac, shifting from gold to honey brown in a ceaseless movement of flames. "Have you set your affairs in order?"

"I have," Albus said. "I thank you for that."

"You needn't thank me," she said with a soft smile. "I will, however, be sure to thank my Lord Father for you."

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Who are you really? Please humour an old man before he must leave this world."

The woman tilted her head. "I was a survivor of a long war that took many lives before its end. At the end, I tended the dead until I almost fell amongst them—for Death followed behind me and gathered the souls for their journey. There were many victims. Many unforgivable deeds."

"But more so, there were countless victims. Slaughtered innocents. Children forged into weapons, cannon fodder, and warriors. Some would say that is simply the nature of war—but it was a most unnatural war that should never have come to pass."

The woman stood taller, cracking her neck as she shrugged her shoulders. "On the day you interviewed one Sybill Trelawney, you allowed someone to overhear it. Knowing full well what would happen, you let them go, thinking that you could use this knowledge later in the upcoming war. You had no idea at the time that it would cause the death of your favoured people—or the torture of two of your most loyal to the point where their son would grow up to be haunted by the shadow of his dead parents. You had no idea that your greater good would throw a boy under the bus, forced to live with magic-hating relatives who abused him every day of his life. In the end. You raised him just high enough that he trusted you completely, and he walked out into a forest to meet his death for the greater good—because you trained him to. In the meantime, you forced a man who had been a boy under your care to be your secret agent on the inside, allowing him no friends, allowing him no allies. He killed you—at your behest, fracturing his soul but one more time because you asked him to."

To his credit, Dumbledore paled in horror, his face lined with disbelief.

"I watched my friends crumble after 'winning' that war. I watched them grieve so much that they couldn't even remember not being in pain. I watched them bicker over whose pain was more legitimate. I watched a friend who should have had a chance to make a life just weave himself a false blanket of security and rock himself to sleep hoping nothing would change lest he lose one more thing he loved. I spoke to the portraits of the dead and realised there would never be closure or comfort, and one night I found myself before the Mirror of Erised, watching all of what could have been but could not be."

"I wished, in that despair, to help them. I had made my choices, and I was prepared to live with them, but if I could help those that deserved better—"

The woman took in a deep breath. "There is always a price for power. A check and balance. Mine was to be bound unto His service to set right what once went wrong and hope each time that the terrible future would not come to pass."

"And what price have you paid?" Albus inquired. "Seems like fixing what went wrong didn't really make you pay much of a price."

The woman's flesh fell away from her bones leaving only a skeleton and fire burning in the sockets where her eyes should have been. Her skull was that of an eagle; the wickedly curved beak parted in a silent hiss. Her bone hands clenched.

"There is no Afterlife for me, Albus Dumbledore. No great rest. No peace of Oblivion. I will remember when the world forgets and heals. The value of many a life lies within its finite splendour. Had you not lost who you have, would you still be with Grindlewald attempting to subjugate Death and rule the world with some mockery of benevolent guidance? So many small things become significant when life is measured—limited."

Albus realised in that moment that there was nothing in what this being was saying that he himself hadn't faced, denied, and faced again. She was right. It was the struggle for life that made life meaningful. Being immortal—ageless—would be a different sort of struggle to find meaning in infinite time, to still care when everything withered around you.

He realised he could not live such a life.

No, he was finally ready to greet the beyond.

She looked at him, her flesh restored, her bones no longer exposed. She looked human yet so much more. She extended her hand.

"Ariana awaits you," she said kindly. "You shouldn't keep her waiting any longer."

Albus felt the breath hitch in his throat. "Ariana."

"Walk with me, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

His hand hesitated only slightly before her fingers wrapped around his.

They were warm.

So very warm.

And they walked together into Death's Embrace.

Time passed as it always did, sometimes so fast it barely seemed but blink and sometimes so slow that it seemed to crawl.

Hogwarts, however, remained frozen in time even as it evolved and changed. It remained a place of safety, of learning.

While headmasters and mistresses would come and go, teachers rise and retire, and students grew into young adults—the guardians of Hogwarts remained as frozen in time as the walls and the magic that made it so very magical.

Severus and Hermione nested at the very top of Hogwarts, the school having formed a great and sheltered aerie across the ramparts. There, countless gryphlets were hatched and sent out into the world—some staying many years at Hogwarts before striking out into the world to find their own mates and adventure, not always in that order.

While they would never know the passion that came with knowing life's end, they escorted many to theirs in their duty to their Lord Father, and in witnessing so many lives and their loves and losses, they, too, remembered what it was to love and lose, live and appreciate, and find joy in the moment.

They had each other, even when their once young friends grew old and grey, passing their success and business to the younger generation. The Lestrange family flourished once more, forever bound in respect and friendship to the Black family generation after generation.

They had their Lord Father, who loved them as only a being such as He could love— with infinite patience and equal compassion.

Harry Potter grew up to be a respectable wizard—level-headed where his father had once been wild and reckless. He became Head Auror faster than any before him, and generations of Potters after him would follow in his footsteps as the kind of people who protected the Wizarding World from the unseen dangers. The Potter legacy did not fade into obscurity, and Harry never knew the stigma of being the Boy-Who-Lived. Instead, he became the protector of the people, not out of prophecy but choice— the greatest choice of all: to live.

This father and mother were very proud, indeed.

And alive— for a lifetime, long enough to see great-grandchildren and then some.

His stuffed dog, Sirius, was passed down through the generations—an heirloom no one could quite understand how it remained so pristine and lifelike, even after so many babies had teethed and chewed and drooled upon it.

But, all of these things were from a distant future not yet recorded on any parchment or held in some hidden crystal ball.

No, for now, Severus and Hermione lay together in their great nest above Hogwarts, warming their clutch of eggs of the future generation of mischief-hunting gryphlets. Toussaint, the mini-gryffs, one hippogriff with an identity crisis, and the hellhounds tucked around them.

Cadbury would slink in, often dragging her partner along by his trousers, and snuggle into her mate as the Nundu cubs chased, pounced, prowled, and toppled each other around the gryphons' great nest.

The guardians of Hogwarts might shift and grow in number, but Hogwarts and all those within would be safe and sound.

There would always be the great black gryphon and his lovely honey-feathered mate protecting the school, teacher, staff, students, and forest denizens alike.

And sometimes, whenever tragedy did strike—

A tall, stern pale-skinned man and a slender, kindly-looking woman would take the soul by the hand and gently guide them to what lay beyond.

Their hands would always be warm.

A small, smooth stone would soon be found where the body once lay, shimmering with the blessing of the Underworld and Afterlife.

Severus snuggled into his mate, preening her head feathers before laying his head across her neck and wings.

Their ears perked as a faint tap, tap, tapping came from below them.

Hermione used her beak to move aside the layer of down lining the nest, and they both watched as a tiny black beak emerged from the crack in the shell. Two black eyes peered out at them from the hole in the egg as the gryphlet exploded outward in a shower of shell shrapnel.

Hermione quickly licked her firstborn of the year over as Severus, too, inspected the new arrival to check if all head, feet, wings, and various appendages were intact.

Bone hands lifted the gryphlet up from the nest as Death inspected the new arrival. His glowing orb eyes burned brightly in the bone-bleached skull. "Welcome to the Family, my grandchild. One of many."

He placed a kiss upon the tiny gryphlet's forehead and tucked him back into the next between his parents. Death placed his hands upon Severus and Hermione.

"Well done, my loves," he praised. "The future is looking very bright indeed."

Severus and Hermione closed their eyes as Death rubbed their head feathers.

Whatever came, they would face it together, as a family.

Always.

Fin.

A/N: If you got the Quantum Leap reference, yay!

This story was put on hiatus back in January when I was neck-deep in taking my boards. I apologise for the wait, and I hope you are happy with the happy piece of eternity for our most beloved characters.

My thanks for your patience and understanding that my life is, like my inspiration, a fickle, demanding beast.