Pitter-Patter of Little Feet

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Author's Notes: I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! Your kind words really encourage me to find the time to write, despite my busy schedule!

This chapter was intended to be longer, but I thought small, bite-sized chapters will help me update more frequently, considering. But let me know what you think on that front! Do you prefer long, action-pack chapters? Or short, leading ones?

This is un-betaed and un-Britpicked, so all grammatical and spelling mistakes are mine. I will be re-posting the edited version of this chapter in the future (likely at around the same time I update the next chapter), so in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Cheers!

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Chapter Five - Humpty Dumpty

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10:45 AM

Friday, 21st March 2004

Department of Mysteries

Standing right outside the Entrance Chamber of the Department of Mysteries brought on a lot of unwanted memories, thoughts of Sirius and how he'd fallen through the Veil chief among them. And though time had muted the gutting pain of losing the only family he'd ever known to a dull, throbbing ache, Harry could still feel a poignant sense of unease at being inside the department's dim, windowless corridor. This was his least favourite place in the Ministry, the last place he'd ever been willing to go to...or so he'd thought.

Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to leave, to flee back to the Atrium where his grief could not suffocate him. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, and he didn't, remaining stubborn and resolute in the face of his internal disquiet. He had a job to do.

And a friendship to fix, he added to himself with a determined nod.

And so, it was with tense shoulders and a mulish jaw that Harry greeted Susan Bones a few minutes later, resolve in his bright green gaze.

"Susan," he said as pushed himself up from the black walls he'd been leaning against and sent her a friendly smile. "Thanks for seeing me."

The redheaded witch stopped in front of him and returned his greeting with an easy grin. "Hey, Harry. What can I do for you? Or should I say, for The Man Who Conquered?"

Said man groaned with an exaggerated roll of his eyes at her casual teasing, the embarrassment he felt at his public moniker obvious. After all these years, people still called him that; it was beyond irritating. And the root of the many ribbings he'd received from Seamus from when they had occasionally worked together as Hit Wizards. Now it seemed yet another one of his old schoolmates had no qualms taking up the baton.

"Not you, too, Susan. Please, don't call me that," he pleaded.

The former Hufflepuff laughed, enjoying his discomfort, then tipped her head in solicitation. "You have to admit, it is quite catchy."

The pained grimace he sent her way said all the thoughts he had on that particular matter. Susan chuckled in response, and Harry let himself relax a little. He rarely had the chance to interact with the other members of Dumbledore's Army these days — with the exception of Neville, for obvious reasons, and occasionally Ron — but they were all mostly in good terms. Mostly.

The aftermath of the war had been difficult for many, if not all, of the survivors, but life had kept on moving forward, and everyone had simply let it take over; each one of them out to carve a life for themselves despite all their losses. At least that was what he had endeavoured to do when he had dived head-first into the fray in a desperate effort to build a life that only he could control. And he had somewhat succeeded, having now joined the Auror Office and settling into a balanced routine of work and leisure.

Harry sighed inwardly, getting down to his original purpose and moving past the friendly banter. There would be more time to socialise with old Hogwarts classmates later; right now, it was time to get right down to business. "Listen, Susan, did you receive an official request from the Auror Office?"

"Yes, we did." Susan nodded, following his lead, her expression curious. "Croaker told us that the Aurors needed Unspeakable assistance, and had asked me to go on the field. I've just received the case report, and I'm heading over to the scene once I've finished reading through it. Did you need anything else?"

Harry took a deep, bracing breath, suddenly nervous. Getting Susan to help them with their case was easy enough. For one thing, she was an employee of the Ministry of Magic and she was obligated to do her part. For another, she had always been accommodating and friendly. But Harry also knew that Susan was a loyal person, a true credit to the badger house through and through, so getting her to aid him with another request outside of Ministry jurisdiction would likely take a lot of convincing.

"Neville and I are working on the case and our primary investigation has shown that ritual dark magic was involved. We need you to help us decipher what kind of magic was used on the scene and why."

Susan tilted her head to the side in thought, but gave a comprehending nod. "Okay. It's not my area of expertise, but I'll do what I can to help."

"Actually…I do know someone who can help you with that." Harry hedged, shifting awkwardly before looking at the woman squarely in the eyes, his words heavy with meaning. "We both do."

There was a brief beat of silence as the witch returned his stare, before she shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Harry. If you want her help, you'll have to take it up with her."

The young wizard gave a resigned sigh at that. He knew it wasn't going to be that easy. Susan had been Hermione's champion against the ugly gossip that had swirled around the Ministry since her return. He wasn't sure how much she knew about what had happened between them, but it was obvious from day one where her loyalties lay. "Susan, please. You know she won't talk to me. Not willingly, at least."

"Then go to Department of International Magical Cooperation and request for her assistance there," Susan reasoned, remaining resolute. "I won't be your messenger, Harry Potter. Not after..."

'Not after he'd ruined her' were the words left unsaid.

"I did. They told me she's on leave for another week. This case can't wait that long," Harry countered, the slight frustration he felt bleeding into his voice. "Besides, you and I both know her division doesn't really report to that department; she won't be obligated to work with the Aurors like other Ministry employees."

Susan gave another shake of her head. "Maybe you can owl her. Make it a personal request."

Except that any owls from him immediately got re-sent, unopened and untouched by the receiver. He knew — he'd probably sent nearly half a dozen of them in the last week alone.

"Come on, Susan, please?" Harry all but pleaded, changing tack. "I know you're close friends. Couldn't you at least mention it to her?"

"She's my best friend," the redhead bit out pointedly, stance defensive now.

The hailed Man-Who-Conquered flinched, more stung by those words than he cared to admit.

Seeing that she'd hit a nerve, Susan backed off, reigning in a temper Harry didn't know she had. "Look, I've always stayed away from what had happened between the two of you, but I really think you should back-off, Harry."

"Please," he pressed with beseeching eyes.

There was a pause, Susan's stare hard and searching. Finally, she relented with a sigh. "Fine." The hopeful look that bloomed on his face at her acquiescence made the scowl on her brow return once more, though. "But I can't make any promises. If she says no, that's that, Potter!"

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11:03 AM

Friday, 21st March 2004

Churchill Gardens, Pimlico, London

The loud crash that echoed throughout the small London flat jolted Hermione abruptly out of her thoughts, surprise causing her to spill ink onto the crisp parchment she'd been writing on. She looked up, alarmed, alert brown eyes quickly roving through the empty room she was in, the pair of toy centaurs transfigured from a pair of oven mitts lying immobile on the carpet her only company. Another resounding crash and a panicked yowl a second later, and she was on her feet like a shot.

"Philip!" she called out shrilly as she ran for the kitchen with her heart in her throat. She had been so immersed in her musings that she hadn't even noticed him leave the sitting room! She was supposed to be keeping an eye on him, she berated herself, even as dread gripped her insides at the thought of a careless accident hurting the small child.

Half a dozen steps later and she was in their small kitchen, fearing the worst.

"Phi —" The young witch stumbled to a halt, then gasped, aghast at the sight before her. "Philip!"

Broken eggs, spilt milk, overturned containers... Pots and pans hung from their respective cupboards and all the kitchen utensils littered the floor. It was a complete and utter mess!

And there at the heart of all the glorious chaos stood Philip, a wooden spatula in hand and a mixing bowl filled with a gooey mixture in the other. He looked up at her with delight in his eyes, his round face covered in sticky batter. "Wook, Mummy, I'm makin' pancakes!"

A floating Crookshanks swept aimlessly past her at his declaration, looking positively antagonised with his claws still stuck on the chair cushion he'd clearly been lying on. The mischievous little imp giggled at the sight and used the spatula to point at her displeased Half-Kneazle. "With Cwooky!"

"Pancakes… Oh, honey," Hermione breathed both in relief and in dismay, glad that he was unharmed, at least. She had spelled his clothes with cushioning charms as a precaution when he had started running around the sitting room and climbing over the couch with his toys, but she hadn't thought he'd come rummaging around the kitchen. She walked over to the batter-covered child and summoned a clean piece of cloth. "You're a mess."

The curious scamp only grinned up at her, guileless and unrepentant, holding out his dripping mix of eggs and flour proudly for her to see. "It's fow you!"

A surge of affection rushed through her at that, despite herself, and she took the dripping spatula and mixing bowl from him with a reluctant smile, completely charmed. Goodness, not only an hour ago she'd been so anxious about how she was going to take care of a small child, but she was utterly and hopelessly endeared by him. The maternal feelings that rose within her surprised her, and she felt strangely protective of him — fiercely so, for someone who had just found out about having a son mere hours ago.

"No, darling," she began chidingly as she wiped his cheeks clean, "you can't make pancakes without me or Aunt Susan around. It's not good, okay?"

Time is undone, Firenze had said, which meant that Philip's presence in her timeline had already changed the course of the future he'd come from, like the centaurs seemed to believe he was meant to. But to what end? And why? Why was a toddler sent back in time? And by who? And why her son?

These questions had swirled around inside her head endlessly since she'd laid eyes on the little boy, and she had no way of knowing where to begin looking for the answers. It was an extremely frustrating predicament. Bloody cryptic centaurs!

"But I make pancakes!" Philip reasoned, as if that made all the point in the world.

"Not without me, okay, Philip?" Hermione shook her head firmly.

The apple-cheeked toddler looked up at her with a little pout, though his bright hazel eyes were large with guilt. "Okay, Mummy."

"Good." The new mother pulled back, satisfied with her work, and cast a silent cleaning charm over his small form, making her little troublemaker giggle as her magic washed over his skin. Cleaning charms on one's person may be convenient, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying without a good, old-fashioned scrubbing.

Crookshanks let out a disgruntled mewl from behind her, as if to remind her that he was still floating on thin air and she shouldn't forget. Hermione turned and stifled a laugh at the picture of dignified disgust he had on his squashed face, 3 feet off the ground. He sniffed disapprovingly at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Crooks! Here, I'll get you down now!" the witch apologised, properly chastised.

And with a quick flick of her wand, the ruffled familiar floated down gently to the tiled floor, miffed and put-out. Once safely on the ground, he crowed his displeasure at both his humans and sauntered out of the kitchen to get some real peace.

"So," Hermione began as she turned to the eager tot beside her,intent on distracting him until lunch time.

Just then, a soft chime of bells erupted from the thin white gold charm bracelet she wore around her left wrist. She lifted her hand and noticed the silver badger charm blinking delicately in the daylight streaming through the windows. It was a message from Susan. She swiped a thumb on its cool, smooth surface, and the badger moved, it's tiny yellow rhinestone eyes glinting as it lifted onto its hind legs to bare its belly to her. Small spidery letters faded in:

Lunch? it said.

The young witch cocked a curious brow at the short missive. While having lunch together with her redheaded roommate was not a rare occurrence, the timing of her invitation seemed a bit off, considering their...unpredictable predicament. They hadn't discussed it, but Hermione didn't really want to bring Philip anywhere public just yet, especially not when she hadn't a clue about anything about him...but she also wasn't sure what she should do with a small child the entire day — she had figured that she could keep him entertained with toys and snacks — but maybe a short walk at the park before lunch at a quiet Muggle café would help with his restless energy.

Glancing down at youngster tugging insistently on her trousers, she decided.

"What is it, Mummy? What is it?" Philip asked eagerly, standing on his tiptoes in a vain attempt to peek at the charm bracelet in her hand, considering he only came up to her thigh for his efforts.

"Just a charm message from Auntie Susie, darling," she answered as she turned to him with a bright smile. "Hey, want to go to a park with me before lunch?"

Deep hazel eyes all but sparkled with excitement. "Yeah! I wanna go!"

"Okay, then! Why don't you go grab your cloak in the bedroom? Let me finish up here, and then we can go, okay?"

"Okay," the toddler shouted happily as he peeled out of the kitchen, leaving his mum smiling slightly in his wake.

Right, then, she thought, turning to the chaos left in the room with a sigh, infinitely glad that it wasn't something that magic couldn't fix.

With her tiny mischief-maker gone, Hermione left the kitchen with a sweeping wave of her wand, the cleaning spell shifting around the room in a fresh whirl of magic, putting everything back in its place. Another simple flick of her wand on the badger charm, and a quick affirmative response, along with the time and place, to Susan was sent. Then, she walked out into the sitting room and headed straight for her forgotten parchments. She had been in the process of writing a letter to an old friend, before Philip's mishap tore her away from it.

An easy correction charm and a few short strokes on her quill later, and Hermione had her letter ready in hand. She set it on the little mailbox by the bay windows, trusting that the mailowls from the owl post would pick it up later. She turned back just as her little runt came running out of her bedroom, the cloak he had worn the night before dragging behind him.

"Mummy! Hewp!" Philip cried, hair curly raven hair bouncing in his rush as he shook a fistful of the cloak in the air at her.

Hermione laughed and took the midnight blue fabric. She would need to transfigure it into a proper muggle jacket, anyway, just warm enough to keep the spring chill away. Lifting the cloth to eye-level, she righted the cloak with a hard shake, before pointing her wand at it, ready to cast the necessary charms, when something caught her eye… just a quick shimmer of silver…

Brows furrowing in bafflement, the young witch peered at the thick cloak closely, sharp brown eyes intent. With sure hands, she deftly shifted through its softness until she found what she was looking for.

There, lining the inside of the child's cloak, was a series of complicated runes stitched in with...with…

She drew the woolen material closer.

...with luminous silver unicorn hair…

Finely-shaped brows flew up in surprise. "What in Merlin's name…"

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