Contrary to popular belief not all women like to shop, some of them despise it so completely that they would prefer to have their teeth pulled out by a deranged clown with a sledge hammer. Amanda was one of those people and normally tried to avoid it whenever possible. Today, however, she thought she might actually find some satisfaction from her purchases.

"I need something that looks vicious."

Eyes focused on her; owl eyes, fish eyes, cat eyes, lizards, weasels, rats, snakes, rabbits, and several somethings she couldn't identify; all from within cages or perched on shelves or in tanks. The only pair of eyes that didn't immediately zero in on her were those of the old shopkeeper, who seemed to require several seconds to realize she was speaking.

"What?" he wheezed, "Delicious, did you say?"

To give the man credit he might really have not heard her, he looked quite ancient and his eyes no longer held the alertness of younger years.

"No sir, vicious. I'd like something to deliver messages, but it needs to look vicious."

"A strong owl's quite impressive enough, there's no need to put yourself through the trouble of a vicious animal. You'll just be hurting yourself."

"I understand. However, I am more concerned with who will be attempting to read my mail, and I'd like to make it as hard for them as possible."

The old shopkeeper looked around for a moment, almost as if to ensure the store was completely empty before he suddenly straightened and a bit of life seemed to come back into his eyes.

"I think I've got just the thing," he said, before disappearing into the room behind him.

When he came back he was holding a small golden, something, that looked remarkably like an overgrown Snitch.

"That's a Snidget," she accused.

"Now hold on there missy, I now the regulations placed on Snidgets. But this ain't – technically speaking – a Snidget. Or didn't you notice the size."

He was right, it was rather big to be the bird the Snitch was modeled from.

"Sometimes a breed gets overly large and the Ministry gives 'em away on account that they wouldn't breed true like a real Snidget. I think this'll be just fine for your purposes."

Amanda eyed the small bird doubtfully for a moment; it was just a little bit bigger then her ear, had bright golden feathers and tiny, glowing red eyes. It didn't look like it would be able to carry a letter, let alone fight its way through the winds that sometimes swept around the castle.

But the old man was way ahead of her.

"He'll carry your letters alright, and he's just as agile through a blizzard as on a sunny day."

Amanda sighed, "Alright, does he have a name?"

The old man positively beamed. "His name is Fredrickson, but you can call him Freddy."

"Freddy?" she said doubtfully.

The little golden bird zoomed up towards her and hovered for a moment, before zipping around her head so fast she almost felt dizzy. What have I gotten myself into?

The little bird settled himself on her shoulder, nestling himself in the folds of her cloak right above her collar bone like a large golden pin.

"You'll have to take 'im now, little missy," the man said, still beaming broadly.

"How much?" she said resignedly.

He hobbled back to the counter and she paid him, all the while with the little golden bird nuzzling into her cloak.

"I think I'll call you Fredson, if that's all right. I just don't think I can handle Freddy, and Fredrickson is just too long."

Fredson just chirped and burrowed even further into her cloak. She had to admit, he looked good there; the deep red velvet of her cloak matched his eyes and his feathers accented the golden clasp perfectly. She grinned ruthlessly; she was going to look very Gryffindor in the coming year.

It was quite late by the time Amanda made it back to the Burrow, or rather, quite early. Mrs. Weasley was the only one awake when she slipped through the back door, already busily preparing breakfast for when the others came down.

"Morning, Molly," Amanda said, startling the older woman.

"Amy!" she exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "You gave me such a fright, coming in like that."

Amanda smiled apologetically.

"You just missed Arthur, by the way, he had to leave for work early so he would have time to get past all the security barriers."

She grimaced, remembering all the spells and charms they'd put up around the Burrow. It was impossible to exit the Burrow by magical means, anyone leaving had to walk down the large hill and quite a ways down the road before they could Apparate away. The same held true for visitors coming in.

A long walk uphill was exactly what Amanda's leg didn't need and she excused herself upstairs to have a nice warm soak.

One long soak and a satisfying nap later found Amanda playing nanny to a horde of little red-headed Weasley brood.

They were insatiable. Question after question poured from their mouths like a never ending waterfall.

"Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"What house were you in?"

"Did you know Sean Gardner? He's my uncle."

"Where did you get that cane?"

Finally Amanda put up her hand, signaling for silence.

"Yes, I did. Gryffindor. No, I've never heard that name. And this cane I made this morning."

"How did you injure your leg?"

That question required some thought. Fell several stories through stairs or crushed by pillar while fighting Lord Voldemort, which to tell? Decisions, decisions…

Amanda need not have decided, however, as several Weasley mothers chose that moment to sweep away with their children to find better places to watch the proceedings. Across the lawn Amanda saw Harry, or rather, "Barney" speaking to Elphias Doge. She arrived at the same time as Muriel.

"Ah, going to join us Amanda? I suppose you've met Barry?" It wasn't a question, question implies time to answer, Muriel just continued on like a freight train. "We were just talking about Rita Skeeter's biography of Dumbledore. I can't wait to read it, I must remember to place an order at Flourish and Blotts!"

Doge looked stiff and solemn at this and Amanda's lips thinned into a thin line with remarkable similarity to her mother's customary grim expression. But Muriel seemed not to care, she took another gulp of champagne, belched, and the said, "There's no need to look like a pair of stuffed frogs! Before he became so respectable and respected and respectable and all that tosh, there were some mighty funny rumors about Albus!"

"Ill-informed sniping," said Elphias.

"You would say that, Elphias," cackled Muriel. "I noticed how you skated over the sticky patches in that obituary of yours!"

"I'm sorry you think so," said Dodge, more coldly still. "I assure you I was writing from the heart."

"Oh, we all know you worshipped Dumbledore; I daresay you'll still think he was a saint even if it does turn out that he did away with his squib sister!"

"Muriel!" exclaimed Doge.

Amanda bristled, "That is the most outrageous accusation –" but Harry cut her off.

"What do you mean? Who said his sister was a squib? I thought she was ill?"

"She was –"

"Thought wrong then, didn't you Barry!" said Muriel , looking positively delighted. "Anyway, how would you expect to know anything about it? It all happened years and years before you were even thought of, my dear, and the truth I that those of us who were alive then never knew what really happened. That's why I can't wait to find out what Skeeter's unearthed. Dumbledore kept that sister of his quiet for a long time!"

"With good reason!" Amanda cut in. "What happened that day was a tragedy, and the fact that you, or Rita, would slight a good mans name because you can't wait to get your grubby hands on a good piece of scandalous gossip and prove that everyone is on your level."

Muriel swung around to face her, swaying slightly.

"You. What would you know about it? Dumbledore never talked about his sister, did he?"

"The reason Albus never spoke about Ariana," began Elphias in a voice stiff with emotion, "is, I should have thought, quite clear. He was so devastated by her death –"

"Why did nobody ever see her, Elphias?" squawked uriel. "Why did half of us never even know she existed –"

"I should think you were hardly a confidant of the Dumbledores," Amanda cut in dryly.

"– until they carried the coffin out of the house and held a funeral for her? Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!"

"What do you mean, locked in a cellar?" asked Harry. "What is this?"

Muriel positively cackled in delight. "Dumbledore's mother was a terrifying woman, simply terrifying. Muggle-born, though I heard she pretended otherwise –"

"She never pretended anything of the sort! Kendra was a fine woman," whispered Doge miserably, but Muriel ignored him.

"– proud and very domineering, the sort of witch who would have been mortified to produce a squib –"

"Ariana was not a squib," Amanda pointed out.

"So you say, but explain, then, why she never attended Hogwarts!" said Muriel, before turning to Harry/Barney. "In our day, squibs were often hushed up, though to take it to the extreme of actually imprisoning a little girl in the house and pretending she didn't exist –"

"I tell you, that's not what happened!" said Doge.

"Squibs were usually shipped off to Muggle schools and encouraged to integrated into the Muggle community… much kinder than trying to find them, a place in the wizarding world, where they must always be second class; but naturally Kendra Dumbledore wouldn't have dreamed of letting her daughter go to a Muggle school –"

"Ariana was delicate!" said Doge desperately. "Her health was always too poor to permit her –"

"– to permit her to leave the house?" cackled Muriel. "And yet she was never taken to St. Mungo's and no healer was ever summoned to see her!"

"Really, Muriel, how can you possibly know whether –"

"For your information, Elphias, my cousin Lancelot was a Healer at St. Mungo's at the time, and he told my family in strictest confidence that Ariana had never been seen there. All most suspicious, Lancelot thought"

"Because your cousin was privy to all that went on in St. Mungo's. Really Muriel, I never knew you had family in such high places." Amanda said. "And of course your cousin would also happen to know all the going-on's of every Healer across Britain."

"Now, if Kendra hadn't died first," Muriel resumed, "I'd have said that it was she who finished off Ariana –"

"How can you Muriel?" groaned Doge. "A mother kill her own daughter? Think what you are saying!"

"If the mother in question was capable of imprisoning her daughter for years on end, why not?"

"Because Ariana was not imprisoned in a cellar," Amanda interjected.

"But as I say," continued Muriel, lost in her own world of conspiracies, "it doesn't fit, because Kendra died before Ariana – of what, nobody ever seemed sure –"

"Oh, no doubt Ariana murdered her," said Doge with a brave attempt at scorn. "Why not?"

Amanda twitched violently, spilling wine all over the nice white table cloth.

"Yes, Ariana might have made a desperate bid for freedom and killed Kendra in the struggle," said Muriel thoughtfully.

"Ariana was sick," Amanda said pointedly. "She couldn't have killed anyone. And she certainly wasn't trying to escape because she was not locked away in a cellar."

"Deny it all you want. And you too Elphias! You were at Ariana's funeral, were you not?"

"Yes I was," said Doge. "And a more desperately sad occasion I cannot remember. Albus was heartbroken –"

"His heart wasn't the only thing. Didn't Aberforth break Albus's nose halfway through the service?"

Muriel might have stabbed Doge and he still wouldn't have looked as horrified as he did now.

"How do you – ?"

"My mother was friendly with old Bathilda Bagshot. Bathilda described the whole thing to mother while I was listening at the door. A coffin-side brawl! The way Bathilda told it, Aberforth shouted that it was all Albus's fault that Ariana was dead and then punched him in the face. According to Bathilda, Albus did not even defend himself, and that's odd enough in itself, Albus could have destroyed Aberforth in a duel with both hands tied behind his back."

"And I'll tell you something else," said Muriel, hiccupping slightly as she lowered her goblet. "I think Bathilda has spilled the beans to Rita Skeeter. All those hints in Skeeter's interview about an important source close to Dumbledores – goodness knows she was there through all the Ariana business, and it would fit!"

"Bathilda would never talk to Rita Skeeter!" whispered Doge.

"Bathilda Bagshot?" Harry said. "The author of A History of Magic?"

"Yes," said Doge. "A most gifted magical historian and an old friend of Albus's."

"Quite gaga these days, I've heard," said Muriel cheerfully.

"She's not the only one," Amanda muttered.

"If that is so, then it is even more dishonorable for Skeeter to have taken advantage of her," said Doge, "and no reliance can be placed on anything Bathilda might have said!"

"Oh, there are ways of bringing back memories, and I'm sure Rita knows them all," said Muriel. "But even if Bathilda's completely cuckoo, I'm sure she'd still have old photographs. Maybe even letters. She knew the Dumbledores for years… Well worth a trip to Godrick's Hollow, I'd have thought."

Harry choked and Amanda had to resist slapping her palm to her forehead.

Doge banged him on the back as Harry coughed, looking at Muriel through streaming eyes. Once he had gained control of his voice again, he asked, "Bathilda Bagshot lives in Godric's Hollow?"

"Oh yes, she's been there forever! The Dumbledores moved there after Percival was imprisoned, and she was their neighbor."

"The Dumbledores lived in Godrick's Hollow?"

"Yes, Barry, that's what I just said," said Muriel testily.

Harrys eyes glazed over and he looked like he was in a trance. He didn't even seem to notice where he was going as he stumbled away.

"Barney," Amanda called.

He didn't respond. Amanda lunged forward, nearly tripping some poor Weasley brood with the end of her cane. She ignored his cry of surprise and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Potter," she whispered, leaning down slightly so her face was close to his. "I most ask you not to go to Godric's Hollow."

"Of course not Professor, I'm going back school when term starts," he said dully.

"Don't even bother trying that with me Potter. I know you better than that –"

"What do you know of me?" he asked, angrily moving his shoulder out of her grasp.

"I know you're hurting. I know you want to know why Dumbledore never told you he lived in Godric's Hollow, the place where your parents died. And I know sooner or later you're going to get it into your head to search for answers there. But I must warn you, that is likely the one place Voldemort expects you most. Please do not walk straight into his clutches."

"You know what I realized, Professor?" he said, after a long moment of silence. "I don't know a thing About Dumbledore, or who he was. How can I trust someone I don't know?"

"Because that's the way Dumbledore was. He left a lot of people in the dark about a lot of things. Dumbledore was a master of manipulating people, and most of the time they were happy to let them. But think of this, Harry: Did Dumbledore ever lead you down the wrong path?"

Harry opened his mouth but Amanda cut him off. "I don't expect an answer right now Harry. Why don't you just sit here and try to enjoy the festivities, goodness knows you probably won't have the chance again for a long while."

She left him then, wondering to herself just how much Dumbledore had managed to prepare him for what he was about to do. Was it even possible for someone to be prepared for this? No one had expected Dumbledore to die – no, to be murdered – so how could Harry be prepared?

Amanda sighed to herself as she settled down at a table and pulled her cane over her lap. It was a good thing Molly had warned her – more like demanded that she do something – about the fact that the trio were planning to skip their seventh year and begin the quest to take down Lord Voldemort. Under other circumstances she might try to actually stop them as Molly wanted, but as it was… It was probably better this way.

Whether or not Harry was prepared suddenly became irrelevant, because at that moment something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dancers. Heads turned, as those nearest it froze absurdly in mid-dance. Then the patrounus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeor is dead. They are coming."

Silence spread outwards in cold ripples from the place the patronus had appeared. Then somebody screamed. Like the opening of the great flood gates everyone seemed to move in one great motion. Guests were sprinting in all directions, knocking over tables as they went. Many were Disapparating; the protective enchantments around the Burrow had broken.

Cloaked and Masked figures appeared in the midst of the chaotic crowd. Lupin and Tonks jumped their feet, wands raised, and shouted "Protego!", a cry that was echoed by all other members of the Order that were present. Amanda stood slowly; taking a long swig of the butter beer in front of her while she scanned the moving crowd for Potter, Granger and the youngest Weasley boy.

She found them, it seemed, just as one of the dark lords followers did. He raised his wand and moved towards where Potter and Granger were trying to force their way through the frantic crowd. Her wand felt warm as it dropped into her hand and she prayed fervently that her spell would work before pulling back her arm and letting loose. "Confringo!"

The streak of light whizzed over the heads of Potter and Granger and the table next to the Death Eater exploded, sending him flying backwards into the crowd. A moment later Potter and his friends vanished on the spot, transported to who knew where; hopefully somewhere safer than here.

It only took a few more seconds before all that remained in the square were the death eaters and the members of the order. Lupin and Tonks still stood back to back, several death eaters in masks surrounding them. The death eater who had been unfortunate enough to be next to the table Amanda had caused to explode was struggling to stand still. Molly was gone; she had been shuffling several children inside when last Amanda had seen her. Everyone still in attendance stood wearily, arms ready and tensed should anyone make the first move.

One man stepped forward, he wasn't dressed in the long black robes of the death eaters and instead wore a dark tweed suit and rolled a bowler hat in his hands, not nervously, but more like a man who knows he's about to have his hands on something far more valuable.

"My name," he started, formally, "is Basil Mnemone, of the Department of Magical Law enforcement. We have a warrant," here he gestured to the men surrounding him "to search these premises from top to bottom in the search for one Harry Potter."

"I'm afraid he couldn't make it," said Tonks offhandedly.

"Shame," stated Mnemone. "In any case, which one of you is responsible for this," he eyed the Burrow doubtfully, "dwelling?"

"I'm Arthur Weasley, this is my home."

"Very well then, if you could just have everyone inside assemble here on the lawn, we have a few questions. And it would make the search ever so much faster." He smiled faintly. "And we wouldn't want to take any more of your time than absolutely necessary, would we?"

"Of course," Arthur said, disappearing inside.

"And Mr. Weasley, Mr. Macnir here will accompany you."

A moment later Mr. Weasley returned with Molly in tow.

"Go," Mnemone said, causing several men around him to file into the house quickly.

"What –?"

"We will begin the search now."

The remaining men Mnemone had brought with him surrounded them, moving people forward until they were all standing together in the middle of the square.

None of them were in the best shape: Lupin was supporting Tonks, who seemed to have a rather nasty looking gash on her leg; Mrs. Weasley was holding onto a grim Arthur and looked alarmed, though she was struggling to hide it; Elphias shuddered where he stood and whimpered faintly. Muriel seemed fine, on the other hand, if a bit tipsy. And was loudly asked the death eater closest to her why the wedding hadn't started yet; Fluer looked angry, as any bride whose wedding has been interrupted has any right to be, and Bill had his arm around her protectively. Amanda tucked her wand back into her sleeve and stood on the other side of Charlie calmly.

"Now," said Mnemone, once they had all gathered near, "while we have you all here, we would like to ask you a few questions."

And so it began. They wanted to know where Harry was, of course. Did they know where he was? Why wasn't he here? When was the last time any of them had seen him? When were they planning to see him next? It went on and on with seemingly no respite. Behind them the search of the house continued on, and periodically there were sounds of things breaking and crashing to the ground violently.

Every clatter or clang from inside made Mrs. Weasley jump slightly as they all wondered what had just been broken or tossed carelessly to the ground. It all went rather smoothly; none of them had seen Harry for several weeks and had no idea where he was. Their responses almost sounded rehearsed, because they were. The only blip was when one of Mnemones men came running out blubbering about something that was laying in one of the bedrooms.

"That something," said Mr. Weasley tersely, "is my youngest son, he's ill with spattergroit –" the man looked disgusted "– so I suggest you leave him be."

Spattergoit, being the extremely disgusting and contagious disease that it was, was enough cause for the rest of the men to finish their search and leave the house in a hurry. Mnemone quickly followed suit, but not before sharing one last piece of advice.

"The Ministry, under it's new management, no longer upholds the high levels of tolerance that had been weakening our society, as such, should any of you be found to be hiding information, well," and he gave each of them a level stare, "let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when the Ministry comes back."

I'm back! And determined to, finally, finish this story. And to get myself reacquainted with it I am going to be revamping all the old chapters so if there are any specific parts that you can remember and would like me to look at please for all that is holy send me a message! Or leave it in a review or something. Either way I'm back, and I hope I haven't lost all of you in the year since I last updated.