THE LETTER

A/N: This was a difficult chapter to write, primarily because it deals with such strong emotions, but also because it's so near the conclusion that I wanted to make sure I had all the i's dotted and t's crossed. In addition, I think there may be a bit of reluctance on my part to let this story go. Thus, the delay in posting. Whatever questions aren't answered in this chapter will hopefully be provided in the Epilogue. So here it is, for your reading pleasure, and please take just a minute to leave a review at the end.

Chapter Eighteen

Hermione and Ginny followed the children's trail unerringly, as if both were guided by radar. The sound of rushing water grew louder as they made their way upward. Finally they came to an opening, nearly obscured by an overgrowth of brush. Ginny gave an exclamation of joy when a gorse bush gave up a bit of torn cloth which she insisted was from Albus's robes. A little way on, Hermione caught sight of a hair ribbon that she kissed and wept over as if it was a living thing. On a trail leading into the woods, the glint of a wand light on metal turned out to be a broken blade from the knife James always carried in his pocket. But it was Teddy who placed a finger to his lips and pointed in silence to the low hanging branches of a hawthorn tree, beneath which the three children lay sleeping, huddled together like puppies in a basket, under a canopy of leaves.

Albus was curled next to Rose, one arm wrapped protectively around her, while James was propped against the tree trunk with his new wand clenched in one grubby fist. That wand, so dearly cherished, was little more than a stick of wood to one so young, but he held it like a sword, a sleeping sentinel watching over the younger children. The Weasley brothers and Teddy all hung back to allow the parents to reclaim their offspring, but the four approached in a reverent hush, as though fearing any sudden movement or sound might cause the babes in the woods to disappear, having been nothing more than a mirage.

If he lived a thousand years, Harry knew that he would never forget the look on Ginny's face when she knelt beside her sleeping sons. A gentle touch was all it took to bring James to instant wakefulness. One look, one glad cry, then his arms were about his mother's neck and she held her boy while silent sobs shook both of them. Harry scooped a still sleeping Albus into his arms so that Hermione and Ron could get to Rose. He heard her waken with a surprised, "Mummy! Daddy!" which did both of them in because she hadn't called them that since she was four.

Harry carried Albus to where Ginny and James still clung, and set him down, causing him to wake with a start. His glasses askew, blinking in confusion, Albus cried, "I knew you'd come!" and then all four of them were holding each other so tightly it seemed they would never let go, an indistinguishable tangle of gripping hands, clutching arms and happy tears. Then four became seven, and Harry and Ginny embraced Rose while Ron and Hermione hugged and wept over James and Al. They could not get enough of kissing the dirty faces, of telling them how much they were missed and how deeply loved. It might have gone on indefinitely had not George, who was a soppy mess by this time, as were his brothers and Teddy, said, "Bugger it. Give over, you lot, and share the wealth!"

The children were borne back to the Burrow in triumph. No sooner had they Apparated at the end of the lane when half a dozen wand lights came flickering toward them. Molly and Arthur, with Lily and Hugo in tow, came first, followed by Katie, Olga, Fleur, Victoire, and all the other Weasley children who began whooping and hollering when they saw Al, James, and Rose. Hagrid came lumbering up the lane, trailed by the Aurors who had remained to stand guard over the family, and swept all three children into his massive embrace, saying, "I knew yeh could do it! I knew yeh'd find 'em! I knew yeh'd bring 'em home in the end!"

Molly, who could find no better outlet for her brimming emotions, knocked up an astonishing meal in almost no time which they ate crowded around the kitchen table either sitting or standing, for no one wanted to miss out on anything. Thick beefy sandwiches, cold chicken and enormous slabs of chocolate cake disappeared in a twinkling while Fleur, Katie, and Olga circulated with Essence of Dittany and bandages for the injured. After delivering the prisoners, Percy had remained in London to assist the Minister, so Penelope and the four P's had returned as well. But a message had gone out to let Percy know the children were safe, and he'd sent one in return, letting them know how overjoyed he was. He'd also sent a message from the Minister who would drop by the Burrow the following day to brief Harry and Hermione on the interrogations which Shacklebolt planned to sit in on personally.

James gave a full, if somewhat embellished account of their time in the cave, with occasional commentary by Albus and frequent corrections from Rose, who seemed determined not to allow her cousin's penchant for hyperbole to run away with him. But James took Rose's critique in stride, for the experience appeared to have imbued him with a unique love and tolerance for all mankind. As he talked, James kept an arm draped about his little sister, who gazed up at him adoringly, and responded to Hugo's completely irrelevant questions with uncharacteristic forbearance. Harry and Ginny smiled at each other, knowing this show of nobility could not possibly last. In fact, it didn't even survive the chocolate cake.

"It wouldn't have happened at all," Rose couldn't seem to resist pointing out, "if you had stayed in the paddock where you belonged."

"You didn't have to come after us, Miss Nosy," James retorted.

"James," Ginny admonished. "That's no way to talk . . ."

Rose cut her off. "Lucky for you I did or you'd still be in that cave!"

"No, we wouldn't," said Albus. "Dad, Mum, Aunt Hermione, and the uncles would have come. And they did come!"

"Yes, but we'd already escaped," said Rose. "Thanks to me."

"Rose," Hermione chastised her. "I think a little modesty. . ."

"And us!" James argued. "We had the fireworks, remember?"

"Which you stole from Uncle George!" Rose shot back.

Arthur, ever the diplomat, said with a twinkle in his eye, "I think we're all a bit tired. Where is everyone sleeping, Molly?"

George and Katie decided to Apparate back to London as they had to open the joke shop early the next morning. Hagrid also made his farewells and Harry finally dismissed the Aurors. All the others, however, elected to stay. Once everyone found their beds, thankful there were no empty ones that night, the house grew silent, save for occasional rattling from the ghoul in the attic. Harry and Ginny were in Ginny's old room where camp beds had been set up for the children, none of whom wanted to be far from their parents. But long after his family had dropped off, Harry found that, tired as he was, he could not fall asleep. So many sights and sounds crowded his brain that when he closed his eyes it was like a film that had been set to start running backward the instant his mind shut down. And apparently he wasn't the only one having trouble, because Albus got up and slipped into the hall. When fifteen minutes passed with no sign of him, Harry decided to see where he had gone.

Albus was sitting on the stairs with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "Couldn't sleep?" Harry said, sitting beside him. "Me neither."

Albus didn't say anything, and after a minute Harry asked, "Something on your mind, Al? Something you feel like talking about?"

"I'm sorry we left the paddock, Dad," said Albus, hanging his head as though this had been torturing him. "I know we weren't supposed to, but that friend of Teddy's told us it would be all right. He said he knew where we could find the biggest fireflies ever, so . . . well, he was Teddy's friend. We thought it would be okay."

"Oh, Al," Harry sighed. "I think that may have been my fault. He wasn't a friend of Teddy's. I just told you that because. . . Well, because I was trying to protect you. Looks like I didn't do a very good job of it, did I?"

"It's okay," Albus assured him. "I knew you would find us."

"Did you?" said Harry, touched by the boy's faith. "You must have been awfully scared, though."

"I was at first," Albus admitted. "So was Rose. James too, though he wouldn't admit it. But after awhile we stopped being scared and started talking about what we could do. I was the one who heard the stream through the crack in the wall. Rose tried to take all the credit, but I was the one who heard it first. Then Rose said she heard the same sound when they brought us there. She said if we followed the stream we'd be able to find our way out of the cave and sooner or later we'd come to a village where somebody might help us. It was James's idea to use the fireworks. I was afraid somebody might hear, but he said we had to take the chance. So we did, and anyway, that's how we did it."

"Sounds like you made a good team," said Harry. "All the same, you took an awful risk. If you'd been caught . . . Well, I shudder to think what might have happened."

Albus stared at him. "Those men. Were they the reason you weren't going to let James go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Al," Harry said. "They were the reason."

"I never told, you know," said Albus. "I never told James what I heard you and Mum talking about that day."

"I didn't think you would," Harry replied. "You gave me your word, and I believed you."

Albus seemed pleased at this, but then his conscience began to bother him. "A couple of times I almost told. When I got mad because . . . well, he's always winding me up, James is."

"Your brother likes a laugh," said Harry. "I know he can be a bit of a trial, but I appreciate the fact that you resisted the impulse. You are a man of honor, Albus Severus, and I'm proud of you."

Albus looked pleased again, but soon the troubled look was back. "He hated you, didn't he? That man. That Mr. Scrimgeour. He really hated you. Why? Did you do something to him?"

Harry looked at Albus, staring into eyes the exact shape and color as his own. "No, Al, I didn't. Not deliberately anyway. It's kind of hard to explain, but I think it had more to do with who I am."

Albus looked confused. "Who are you?"

Harry couldn't help grinning. "Well, most people call me Harry. . ."

Albus just rolled his eyes. "Dad! Come on."

"All right," said Harry, chuckling. "Whenever people reach a high place in life, there's always someone ready to knock them down. The man who took you, your brother, and Rose was the kind of man who liked to knock people down. He held a grudge against me because of the place I hold, and tried to get back at me through you. It was a low, cowardly, despicable thing to do, but one thing's for sure: he'll never do it again."

"He's. . . dead?" Harry nodded and Albus swallowed hard before asking, "Did . . . did you kill him?"

"No. His death was an accident. All I cared about was getting you back safe and sound. But I'll tell you this much, I would have done whatever I had to do to get you and James and Rose back. So would your mum. So would Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. That's the way it is with parents. We'll do anything for our children."

Albus peered at him through round glasses, looking owlish and wise. "Because you love us so much?"

"Yes, Al," Harry whispered, his throat constricted. "Because we love you so much."

Everyone slept late the next day and moved a bit sluggishly once they were up and about. Even James, who continued to regale his remaining cousins with bold tales of his adventures, did so with less enthusiasm than the night before. In the afternoon, Kingsley Shacklebolt turned up and asked to speak to Harry and Hermione. They went into the sitting room, the same place they had once met with another Minister, but this was a different type of meeting under very different circumstances.

"Wilkinson, Quincy, and Fletcher were all questioned using Veritaserum," Shacklebolt said. "We got a lot of information out of them. You may be interested to know that Fletcher is a distant relation of old Mundungus."

"Figures," said Harry.

"Yes," Hermione concurred. "Birds of a feather, and all that."

"Indeed," said the Minister. "Interesting story he and Quincy had to tell about a werewolf. I don't suppose either of you know anything about that?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, then Harry explained Teddy's role in the rescue effort. "I'm quite sure no laws have been broken, Minister," Hermione was quick to add. "He's not a true werewolf, nor an Animagus either, so as far as the Registry is concerned . . ."

"No," Shacklebolt agreed. "Of course there was no need. I understand the desire for secrecy, especially under the circumstances, but I don't think I've ever heard of anything like that."

"Nor have I," said Hermione. "It may be unprecedented."

"Useful, though," Shacklebolt said. "Well, the young man showed courage, which is hardly surprising, considering who his parents were. We'll have to find some way to reward him, won't we?"

"I was thinking of the Mad-Eye Award," Harry said.

"I was thinking of an Order of Merlin," Shacklebolt countered. "Second Class, perhaps."

Harry was surprised, but pleased too. Very pleased, in fact. "As you wish, Minister. He certainly deserves it."

"I think so," Shacklebolt replied. "Now, onto Robert Wilkinson. That was a most illuminating interview."

"I'm sure it was," said Harry. "I suppose you found out he's Rufus Scrimgeour's youngest son?"

"Actually, he's not," the Minister corrected. "As it turns out, Vivienne was having a bit on the side." Shacklebolt smiled at the look on Hermione's face. "It happens, you know. Rufus was utterly focused on his career and his wife decided to seek consolation elsewhere. She passed the boy off as her husband's and Rufus never thought to question it. After his death, Vivienne married her lover who adopted the boy, though for the sake of appearances they never let on that he was really Wilkinson's own son."

"Rowan knew, though, didn't he?" said Harry. He was only guessing, but the Minister confirmed it with his next words.

"Rowan appears to have taken his anger at his mother's betrayal out on his half-brother," said Shacklebolt. "He bullied Robert, who lived in terror of him, which was how he ended up involved in this scheme. Robert never took part in the sale or distribution end of things, but Rowan browbeat him into acting as a mole. They communicated through the use of an enchanted coin. That's how Rowan knew they were coming to arrest him at the Leaky Cauldron."

"A Protean Charm," said Hermione, and Harry remembered the fake Galleons she had charmed for Dumbledore's Army. "I should have realized!"

"Robert never knew about Attor," the Minister continued. "He never even knew the extent of his brother's business dealings, and only agreed to help him leave the country on condition no one would be hurt. He claims he didn't realize how truly disturbed his brother had become. Remember, all this came out under Veritaserum, so we can be fairly confident of its veracity. Wilkinson mentioned something else that may interest you. Apparently Rowan and his henchmen were out preparing for the meeting with you when Wilkinson heard something in the chamber where the children were being held. He went back to investigate and when he realized they had escaped, he said nothing in the hope they would have enough time to get away before Rowan realized they were gone."

"I wondered about that," said Harry. "I wondered how they could have done it without anyone hearing."

"Those are some resourceful youngsters you have there," Shacklebolt said. "Though again, it's hardly surprising, considering who their parents are."

Harry and Hermione exchanged another look, and neither could help smiling. Then Harry remembered something. "Attor's formulas. Did Wilkinson know anything about . . ."

"Yes, in fact, he knew exactly where his brother had hidden them. We recovered them early this morning. They include some rather frightening mixtures, according to our experts."

"One of the formulas is very important to a contact of mine," Harry said. "In fact, I made a promise. . ."

"You're talking about Blaise Zabini?" Shacklebolt guessed. "He doesn't need it."

"Minister," said Harry, rather insistently, "Zabini was extremely helpful with this case . . ."

"I've no doubt," Shacklebolt said. "But he doesn't need the formula. Not now anyway. His mother died the night of the storm."

"Oh," said Harry. "I see. I. . . I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not," Shacklebolt said. "I investigated her when I was an Auror. I would have been willing to bet all the gold in Gringotts that she was guilty of murdering all seven husbands, but I never could prove it. A funny thing about Arachna Zabini, though. However lethal she may have been as a spouse, she was absolutely devoted to her son. She would have killed for him, and may very well have done so. She's left him well fixed financially. He doesn't need that teaching post at Hogwarts, but apparently it's something he wants to do. He's rumored to be quite a gifted potion maker, so he'll probably do well there."

"It just occurred to me, Minister," said Hermione. "How certain are we that copies of those formulas haven't already made their way to others?"

"There's no way of knowing," Shacklebolt said. "Though I imagine that's something you'll want to investigate, Harry."

Harry nodded. "I'd already thought of it. And even if those are the only copies, someone is bound to come up with something similar, or worse, eventually."

"There's always something, isn't there?" Shacklebolt sighed. "Which is why we need you, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "I don't feel that I've distinguished myself all that well lately. A great deal seems to have occurred right under my nose without my noticing."

"It happens to the best of us, Harry," said Shacklebolt. "Hermione already knows this, of course, as she prosecuted the case, but several months ago I learned that two of my most trusted aides were running a scam right out of the Ministry. It disturbed me so deeply that I began to think seriously about retiring."

"That would be a tremendous loss to the entire wizarding community," Hermione said with complete sincerity.

Shacklebolt only shrugged. "Be that as it may, I've decided to hang about for a few more years. At least until someone is ready to take my place."

Ignoring the glint in Hermione's eye, Harry said, "I can't think of anyone who could fill your shoes, Kingsley."

"If the two of you are angling for pay raises, you're wasting your time," Shacklebolt said with an ironic grin. "I'd best be off before my head is too swollen to get through the door."

They walked him out. "I realize you've both been through a terribly trying experience," Shacklebolt said as they reached the kitchen. "I wanted to let you know that neither of you need feel you must rush back to the office."

"I'll be in tomorrow," Hermione promised.

"As will I," Harry said. "As you say, Minister, there's a lot to be done."

Shacklebolt smiled. "I should have known."

They met Ron outdoors. "Ah, the famous Mr. Weasley!" said Shacklebolt, shaking his hand. "I've heard some amazing things about your strategy. I don't suppose we could talk you into returning to civil service, Ron?"

"I was highly motivated in this instance," Ron replied modestly. "Besides, aren't there already enough Weasleys at the Ministry?"

"We do seem to have a fair few," Shacklebolt admitted. "Nevertheless, we can always find a place for talent like yours. Give it some thought, why don't you?"

Once Shacklebolt had gone, Harry turned to Ron and said, only half teasing, "Well, how about it? There's an empty office right next to mine."

"I have an office, thanks," Ron said.

"He's got a point, though, Ron," said Hermione. "Don't you remember during the war when Fred and George developed an entire line of defensive products for the Ministry? There might be an opportunity for something like that again."

"That's right," Harry said. "The Bee was awfully helpful. And some of the modifications you've made to the Deluminator might be just what. . ."

"All right, all right," said Ron. "I'll think about it, okay? I'll talk it over with George and then we'll. . ." He broke off at the look on Harry's face. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Harry!"

"Just trying to keep you out of trouble, Ron," said Harry.

"It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it, right?" Ron said dryly.. "But I don't know about working in such close proximity with my own wife. It could create . . . complications. "

"Fair point," Hermione acknowledged, looking worried.

"What I meant," Ron clarified, "was that I would find it far too distracting. I'd never get anything done with you around."

"Oh!" said Hermione, turning pink with pleasure as Ron put his arms around her. "Is that what you . . ."

Whatever she'd been about to say was cut off, and Harry decided it was time to leave them. He passed Hugo, who made gagging noises at the sight of his parents kissing, and made his way toward Bill and Charlie who were sitting on a couple of deck chairs under a tree.

"Take my chair, why don't you, Harry?" Charlie said. "I have to go help Olga get everything packed. We're heading back to Romania in the morning, and with five kids there's a lot of gear that goes with us."

Harry took the chair Charlie vacated and said to Bill, "Gringotts give you the day off?"

"I took the day off," said Bill. "I wanted to spend more time with Charlie while he was here, and after the past couple of days, I couldn't face a building full of goblins. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on that"

Bill jabbed a thumb toward Teddy and Victoire who had apparently made up and were sitting together on a blanket in the garden. Victoire was dabbing dittany on Teddy's cuts and abrasions, and from the looks of things, he was feeling much better already.

"She could do a lot worse, you know," said Harry.

"You needn't sell Teddy to me, Harry," Bill replied. "I've always liked him. It's her I'm worried about."

Harry was confused. "She's a Weasley," Bill explained. "And her mother is French. And she's sixteen. Combine that and she's a sack of raging hormones. And frankly, I'm not ready to be a grandfather."

"Oh, come on," Harry said. "You don't honestly think. . ."

"Don't I?" said Bill. "You know how determined we Weasleys can be when we want something. Look at Ginny. She set her cap for you when she was ten years old, and she got what she wanted in the end, didn't she?"

"That's not exactly flattering to me, Bill. I did have some say in the matter."

"Maybe so, but think back, Harry. When you first started going out with Ginny, which of you was it who put the brakes on when things began to get a little out of hand? "

Harry felt his face go red. "I thought so," said Bill. "I won't ask how long you held out because that's getting too personal, but you'll understand what I mean when I say that we Weasleys can be very single-minded. All I can hope is that Teddy shows a little sense."

"I'm sure he will," said Harry, glad to get the focus off himself and Ginny. "He's always been level-headed, and he has a very strong sense of how much he owes this family. I don't really think you've anything to worry about, Bill."

"Teenaged daughters are worrisome creatures. Just wait till Lily is Victoire's age and see how you feel."

Harry frowned. Bill would have to bring that up. He looked over to where Lily was hosting a tea party on the lawn for Molly and Magda. Harry watched as Lily left her younger cousins to bring something to Rose, who was reading nearby. Rose looked up from her book long enough to accept the offered cup, and Lily returned to serve a proper tea to the twins.

"That's a long way into the future," Harry said, adding under his breath, "Fortunately."

"It goes a lot faster than you think," said Bill. "It doesn't seem that long ago Victoire was Lily's age. Now she's a woman, in body if not yet in spirit, and certainly not common sense." He sighed. "Oh, I know I'll give in eventually. But I still have a little time to be an outraged father, and I intend to make the most of it."

Harry grinned. "Might as well. Victoire comes of age next year, doesn't she?"

"Don't remind me." Rather abruptly, Bill called out, "Victoire! Go find your brothers! And see if your mother needs any help. We'll be leaving soon."

Harry went in search of Ginny and found her in the sitting room where she was reading the Riot Act to Albus and James.

". . . and you are not to nick any more of Uncle George's products," Harry heard her saying as he entered the room.

"That was James," Albus protested. "He was the one. . ."

"I don't care," Ginny interrupted. "Now repeat after me: 'I will not pinch anything else from Uncle George.'"

"I will not pinch anything else from Uncle George," the boys recited dully.

"Nor from anyone else in the family," said Ginny. "Nor from anyone else at all, for that matter!"

"Nor from anyone else in the family," the boys repeated. "Nor from any . . . what was that last part again, Mum?"

"Never mind," Ginny sighed. "The point is, you shouldn't take things that don't belong to you. And you shouldn't wander off for any reason whatsoever when your father and I tell you to stay put. Now then, is that clear to both of you?"

"Yes, Mum," said the boys together. They were set free, and Harry sat beside Ginny, placing an arm around her along the back of the sofa.

"Back to normal then?" Harry said.

"I was just having a little talk with your sons about certain aspects of their behavior," Ginny explained.

"Why is it they're always my sons when they're misbehaving, but your sons whenever they've done something wonderful?" Harry asked.

"Funny how that works, isn't it?"

"Very funny," Harry grinned, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Does it ever get any easier, do you suppose?"

"I don't know," said Ginny. "But I'm getting Mum and Dad something extra nice for Christmas this year. There were seven of us. Just imagine!" She snuggled closer, fitting herself into the curve of his body. "What were you and Bill talking about? I saw you sitting with him after the Minister left."

"Teenage hormones," said Harry, and he gave her the gist of his conversation with Bill.

Ginny giggled. "Poor Bill."

"Yes, and poor Teddy," Harry said ruefully.

"Poor Teddy indeed! What are you suggesting?"

"Only that I know how impossible it is to resist a beautiful Weasley woman," Harry murmured into her hair. "You've always had me right where you wanted me."

"I wish!" Ginny scoffed.

"You can have your way with me right now, if you like."

"With the entire family ready to burst in on us? Thanks, but I think I'll wait till we get home. When will that be, by the way?"

"Soon. This afternoon, in fact. I really need to get back to work. There are a lot of loose ends to tie up with this case. Kingsley's been generous, but I really can't impose much longer."

"Of course you can't," Ginny sighed. "But you're taking Thursday morning off."

Harry looked puzzled. "What's Thursday morning?"

"September first! We're taking James to King's Cross Station. He's leaving for Hogwarts, remember?"

"Oh!" said Harry.

In all the excitement he'd completely forgotten. And today was Monday so that was only two days away. Harry felt the same sinking sensation he'd experienced when the letter from Hogwarts first arrived. They'd only just gotten James back again and now he was leaving. But it was time for him to go. It was their job as parents to make him ready to go, and the past few days had certainly proven that they'd done something right. James could look after himself, at least in part, and when he needed them he would be back. He would always come back, just as Harry and Ginny, and all the other Weasleys returned to the Burrow each summer. Little birds left their nests, but they returned with little birds of their own. It was the way it was supposed to be. It was part of life. And life was good.

"Next year it'll be Albus," said Harry.

"And two years after that, Lily," Ginny said. "Then it'll be just you and me."

Harry lifted a strand of Ginny's hair and kissed the place just behind her ear that always made her smile. "You know, I think I can just about cope with that."

A/N: The Epilogue will include a return appearance by Blaise Zabini as James finally leaves for Hogwarts. Thanks to everyone for all your wonderful reviews. They mean so very much to me and I hope you'll let me know your thoughts on this chapter as well.

Special Note to Mimosa: The accents you referred to in Chapter 16 are probably more of a "broad" northern dialect. Although I didn't do any specific research, I've read several literary works set in that general area and that's what I used as a model. My intention was really to convey a rough, unlettered quality which, in this day and age of mass media, is probably very uncommon, though in the wizarding world it might be more prevalent. I also wanted to thank you for recommending my story, as well as for your many thoughtful, detailed, and completely delightful reviews. I always enjoy reading them and greatly appreciate your loyalty. -Cassandra