What Lies Ahead

He threw a discarded trinket across the room before kicking another out of his path and blasted a bookshelf full of useless tomes creating a shower of splinters and torn pages to cascade to the ground.

Tom's breathing was laboured, his fists balled tightly by his side as he tried to rein his temper in.

Ever since he had found the books on occlumency and legilimency in the restricted section of the library almost two years prior, he had worked at keeping his anger in check, something he had struggled with his entire life, but having read the latest offering from The Daily Prophet, his rage had boiled over.

Harry Evans, The Serpent?

By Colin Graves

The article had alluded to an eyewitness that had seen Evans duel with Grindelwald and had gotten the better of the feared man using parseltongue magic.

"No," Tom muttered to himself, "it cannot be true."

His jaw tightened as another wave of anger washed over him at the thought of Evans and another bookshelf was reduced to scattered debris.

Tom took a deep calming breath.

There had to be a mistake with what the eyewitness had seen. It simply was not possible that Tom was related to Evans in any way.

No, Tom was the descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

Evans was no one.

He took a small amount of comfort in the thought as he sat on an old stool and removed his diary, a quill, and a pot of ink.

Dipping the quill into the latter he placed the tip on the page.

I am the heir of Slytherin

I am the heir of Slytherin

I am the heir of Slytherin

Tom couldn't be certain how many times he repeated the sentence, but the more he did it, the more assured he felt, though his anger was not abated.

Pausing for a moment, he smirked as he began writing once more, a different mantra playing over and over in his mind.

Evans will die

Evans will die

Evans will die

To Tom, that wasn't enough, and his smirk widened as he changed his mantra once more.

I will kill Harry Evans

I will kill Harry Evans

I will kill Harry Evans

He allowed himself to be lost in that thought as he imagined Evans at his mercy, on his knees and begging to be spared.

It excited Tom to fantasise about it, and he allowed it to blossom to having Evans at his mercy whilst the entirety of wizarding Britain looked on as Tom killed their hero, proving that he was the superior wizard.

Now, Tom's anger was gone, replaced by euphoria as he continued to ponder his latest thought and even took a moment to adjust his appearance in a broken mirror before taking his leave of the Room of Requirement.

With it being the weekend, there were no classes and most of the students had chosen to spend the day in the common rooms, the poor weather deterring them from wishing to leave the castle.

Tom also headed towards his own, entering it to find Rosier, and several others seated close to the fire and seemingly waiting for him.

"Where did you go?" Rosier asked.

"I had some work to do in the library," Tom replied dismissively.

Rosier nodded and placed a copy of The Daily Prophet on his lap.

"This could be a problem," he said simply.

Tom shook his head.

"Evans is not a descendant of Slytherin," he replied confidently.

Rosier was not convinced and sighed deeply.

"I am not saying this to insult you nor negate your claim," he murmured, his eyes shifting around the room to ensure the conversation remained private, "but you must be certain. If you ever intend to make a claim and it is proven that Evans is the rightful heir, it would be bad for you."

"Bad for me?"

Rosier nodded gravely.

"You will be seen as a usurper, and there is little worse than having that reputation."

Tom frowned, his nostrils flaring as his anger rose.

"And if Evans was to die?"

Rosier eyed him critically, almost worriedly for a moment.

"If you managed to kill him for the purpose of taking his position, it would be worse, but that is not what should concern you."

"It isn't?" Tom asked.

"No, the thing that should concern you is preventative magic that may be in place if you did find yourself at odds with him."

"Preventative magic?"

It was not something Tom had heard of, but the way Rosier spoke of it troubled him.

"Some families have measures in place to ensure other family members cannot simply murder the head of house to take their position," Rosier explained. "The consequences of attempting to do so vary, but the outcome is never pleasant. You may find yourself no longer able to use magic, exiled to a place you can cause no harm, or even die for trying."

Tom frowned unhappily.

"If Evans is the heir and you were to make an attempt on his life or were even party to it, the consequences for you would likely be dire. The Slytherins were not known for half-measures."

Tom grit his teeth.

Although he was certain Evans was not Slytherin's heir, could he risk evoking such magic against himself, if it was indeed in place?

"So, what do I do?"

Rosier released a deep breath.

"Hope that he is killed during the war, and if he isn't, tread very carefully with how you proceed. You have my support," Rosier assured him. "I think you will one day be what our world needs. You were born to lead, Tom, and even if this avenue is not available, you could always become the Minister of Magic."

The idea elicited a feeling of sickness within Tom.

He had no desire to be the Minister.

He wanted to be more, so much more than a slave to the people.

No, he would hold more power than any office could grant him.

One day, it would be the Minister of Magic that answered to him, but for now, his mind was only occupied with thoughts of Evans and what he could do to be rid of the man.

If fortune favoured Tom, Evans would be destroyed by Grindelwald, and then there would be no question of succession.

However, if Evans lived…

That was something Tom would have to prepare for, but if what Rosier had said was correct, it would not do to make an attempt on him; not until he was certain of his own position according to the magic of his family.

(Break)

For the week following the attack, Harry had stayed with his men, partly because he needed to recover from his injuries, and partly to ensure no follow-up would come.

He didn't believe the latter would, but he was not willing to leave anything to chance, not where Grindelwald was concerned.

More than ever, the man would want him dead; the two biggest threats to his regime having been revealed to be the very same person.

Harry had not intended for it to happen, but as he was locked in combat with his foe, he realised quickly that if he was to be within a chance of winning, he could not simply be Harry Evans any longer, nor could he just be The Serpent.

He was both, and now that the world knew it, there was no need to hide it from any other.

"What kind of snake is that?" Charlus asked curiously.

Harry was gently stroking the protruding head of his serpent companion, the timid nature of the creature seemingly having passed as it rested partially on his shoulder, the rest of the body hidden in his shadow.

It had grown considerably since he had first discovered it in its bedroom and was close to twenty feet now.

He still had no idea what the nature of it was, but it remained with him and contentedly so.

"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. "She came from an egg given to me and eventually hatched. She lives in my shadow and feeds on my magic."

"I've never heard anything like it," Gilbert murmured.

"Neither have I," Harry snorted.

He had a lot of time to ponder things during his recovery.

Much to his relief, he'd sustained only a broken collarbone, some cuts and bruises, and an odd disorientation for a few days after Grindelwald struck him with whatever spell had caught his leg.

Such a mild outcome had evidently not been Grindelwald's intention, and it seemed that once again, the Elder Wand had failed him.

"You know that things are going to change for you, don't you?" Charlus pressed. "People will believe that you're a descendant of the Slytherins."

Harry nodded.

"I know," he sighed, "but I'm not."

"We know that," Charlus assured him, "but not everyone else does. Maybe you shouldn't correct them."

Harry frowned questioningly at the man who chuckled.

"I always forget how clueless you are about politics," Charlus replied. "It could be to your advantage to allow them to think that you may be related to them. You've proven to everyone back home that you are fighting for them, that you are a gifted wizard, and have even set up a charity that you yourself have donated generously to. You're all but untouchable now."

"You know I don't give a shit about things like that," Harry huffed. "When the war is over, I just want to go home."

"I know," Charlus sympathised, "but do you think you'll be allowed that?"

Harry shook his head irritably.

He had seen what had happened to Dumbledore after he defeated Grindelwald.

Position upon position had been thrust upon the man by those who looked to him to solve all their problems, and Albus had been too kind to say no until he was offered the Minister of Magic post.

Harry certainly did not want to be Dumbledore, and he had no desire to be the Minister or hold any other office for that matter.

His experience of the Ministry had not been good and being around people like the Malfoys day in and day out held no appeal.

No, when the fighting was done, Harry wished for a quiet life, though he couldn't help but think he would not be granted that.

"How're you feeling now?" Charlus asked.

"Better," Harry confirmed. "I've had much worse."

"Don't we know it," Yaxley grumbled. "You kicked his bloody arse."

Harry shook his head in deniable.

"I caught him off guard," he corrected. "He's no less dangerous than he was before. If anything, he will be more so the next time we meet. He won't be playing games anymore and will take me seriously."

"But you'll kill him, won't you?" Gilbert asked, his question almost childlike.

Harry could only shrug.

"There's a difference between fighting average witches and wizards and then fighting someone like him," he explained, "for both of us. Neither of us have ever been so evenly matched and it makes a fight much more difficult to win. The difference between living and dying is one wrong move, one mistake and it is all over. There are no second chances. It makes you more cautious but more purposeful with what you do in that fight."

"Rather you than me, mate," Yaxley murmured.

"That's how everyone sees it," Harry returned evenly. "If no one is willing to fight him, then how will we win?"

The others shared a look and even Charlus nodded his agreement.

"So, Grindelwald dies and then the war is over?" Gilbert asked hopefully.

"No, it's not that simple," Harry informed the man. "Grindelwald dying will be a big step in ending the war, but it will be months or even years before it is truly over. His followers will need to be dealt with, the countries he has taken returned to the people, and the mess he has made cleaned up."

"Well, that's brightened my day," Yaxley snarked.

Harry shrugged once more.

"Most of us will go home when the fighting ends, but that's when the real work will begin. The ICW won't just let Grindelwald's men go home, nor the countries that chose to follow him go unpunished. The world will change even more when the fighting is done. That's when the war will truly be concluded."

"And you say you know nothing of politics," Charlus chuckled.

"I know war," Harry pointed out, "and this one will get much worse before it gets better, for everyone."

"Well, until then, are you going back home?" Yaxley questioned.

Harry nodded.

"After I have met with the ICW."

He had received the summons from Abreo two days after the confrontation with Grindelwald.

He did not know what to expect from the gathering, but Harry found he didn't care.

Harry had informed Ghost that he would no longer be working with the Hit-Wizards, and it wasn't as though any could argue with his decision.

"I have some arrangements to make for Minerva," he continued. "I need to make sure her and the baby are safe. She's in more danger now, and I won't have her dragged into this."

"Bloody hell, I didn't think of that," Charlus said worriedly, frowning thoughtfully before turning to the others. "I need a word with Harry alone," he requested.

Yaxley and Gilbert headed towards the door without question, the former pausing as Charlus spoke to him once more.

"Find Arcturus and send him here."

Yaxley nodded and followed Gilbert.

When they were gone, Charlus gazed at Harry for a moment before speaking once more.

"I've known you for the best part of six years now," he sighed. "You're more of a brother to me than you are a friend, and I want to help you. I know you probably won't need it, but I couldn't live with the guilt if something happened to Minerva when there's something I can do to help you keep them safe."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"You'll see when Arcturus gets here," Charlus answered dismissively.

The Potter lord fell silent, almost contemplative as he nodded to himself.

Arcturus had been to visit Harry, and though the man hadn't asked any questions pertaining to his parseltongue abilities, Harry could see he wished to sate his curiosity on the matter.

He'd explained as much to the man as he had the others when he'd outed himself to them, and though Arcturus had taken it well, he had not pressed for more information, choosing to accept it at face value for the time being.

It was only a matter later that the man arrived and closed the door behind him, his gaze shifting between Harry and Charlus.

"Have you finished the book?" Charlus asked.

Arcturus's eyes widened slightly but he nodded as he removed a shrunken tome from within his robes with Charlus doing the same.

Harry watched as they traded books before Charlus stared at the one he'd received almost affectionately and then to Harry before placing it in his hand.

"This is my family magic," he explained. "You won't quite be able to use it the same way I do, but there are some excellent protection spells in there that will help keep them safe. Just keep them and anything else you might read in there to yourself."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"The baby," Charlus explained to the curious Arcturus who released a deep breath.

"Bollocks," he muttered worriedly. "Cassie can get in and out of the country."

"Any suggestions?" Charlus asked.

Arcturus nodded as he added as he placed his own book on the table.

"She will know this magic but will be able to do nothing about it if you use the blood protections. You might even pick up a useful curse or two in there," he added with a smirk.

"Your family magic?" Harry asked, looking at the pair in disbelief.

"You are my family, Harry!" Charlus reiterated firmly.

"And mine will try to harm yours," Arcturus pointed out. "I do not wish to find myself at odds with you, and I will not have the death of a woman and child on my conscience. We've been in this together for too long now to allow anything to come between us."

"Even if I am a half-blood?" Harry asked with a grin.

Arcturus nodded, a smirk tugging at his own lips.

"You're not bad for a half-blood, Evans," he conceded. "You are the best two men I know."

With that, Arcturus swept from the room and Harry turned his attention to the two books he had been given.

He was no expert on how pureblood families worked, but he knew that it was all but unheard of for them to share their magic.

That was why Sirius had been quite protective over certain parts of the library when they had stayed in Grimmauld Place.

Family magic was revered and kept close so that others did not learn of it for a reason.

With Charlus and Arcturus handing theirs over so willingly, it meant that they trusted Harry to a fault.

(Break)

Gellert winced as he adjusted himself in his sheets, his skin still pale from the fever that had taken him, and the burns on his leg puckered and sore despite the best efforts of the healers that had been attending him.

For three days, Cassiopeia had stayed at his bedside whilst the man came in and out of consciousness, delirious in the rare moments he was awake, and his words only having become coherent the previous day.

Still, he said little, choosing to keep his thoughts to himself.

The revelation that Harry Evans was The Serpent had sent shockwaves across the wizarding world, with many now questioning who the man was.

Cassiopeia too wondered the same thing, the half-blood she had met before they had become enemies already proving to be quite the enigma.

Now, it seemed he hailed from a house considered to be even greater than her own, and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Whoever Evans really was, whatever line he hailed from would be big news in Britain with every prominent lord doing their utmost to uncover the truth.

Cassiopeia snorted at the thought.

If she and Weber had failed in their own various attempts, no other would succeed, only adding to the mystery, something that provoke one of two reactions amongst the pureblood families.

The first would see any that dared label Evans as a potential political threat, and they would do all they could to nullify the reputation the man had carved for himself.

Only a fool would take this approach.

From what the world had seen of Evans, he could quite easily squash any other family if they chose to make an enemy of him.

No, not even the most foolish amongst the purebloods would do such a thing, and that left only one other option.

They would attempt to ingratiate themselves to the man, either to better their own standing, or to put themselves on good terms with Evans because regardless of who his parents really were, he would be seen as a descendant from one of the founding houses, one that was a proven, powerful wizard.

He was not like the Gaunts who had fallen from favour decades before, nor the Smiths who were braggarts and had done nothing of note in centuries.

No, Evans would be linked to Slytherin through his parseltongue ability and held in much higher esteem.

"Water," Gellert croaked, pulling Cassiopeia from her musings.

She obliged the man by handing him a goblet which he accepted with a trembling hand.

The infection had cleared but Gellert was still weak; something that Cassiopeia had never seen him as.

He drank greedily, draining the goblet before gesturing for a refill.

"How are you feeling?" Cassiopeia asked when he'd drunk his fill.

"I've been better," Gellert answered. "It seems that I have found a worthy foe."

He sounded almost happy, as though he had been waiting for someone to offer him such a challenge.

"Do you not think it would be better if he can be killed another way?" she questioned tentatively.

Gellert shook his head.

"No, it will either be me or Commander Evans that emerges victorious when we face one another again. If he were to die at the hands of another, I will be seen as a coward and I will lose respect."

"That is such a stupid Gryffindor thing to say," Cassiopeia huffed irritably.

Gellert smiled.

"Albus used to say I would have been in his house," he chuckled. "He says that I was too bold for my own good."

"That's one thing I can agree on with Dumbledore," Cassiopeia murmured. "You could have died, Gellert."

"And our movement would have lived on, would it not?"

Cassiopeia frowned but nodded.

"My death would matter little now," Gellert mused aloud. "I have shown much of the world the life they could have if only they grasped it. They are doing that now."

"But you are their leader."

"For now," Gellert agreed, "but I am not Nicholas Flamel and one day, I will die. It will be down to those loyal to me to see my vision brought to life. If I can manage it before my times has passed, then they need only maintain it. You and even they may believe that they are loyal to me, but it is to my vision they have dedicated themselves."

For Cassiopeia, that wasn't true. It was Gellert she was loyal to, and if he were to die, she would only continue his work to honour him.

"What do we do about Evans for the time being?"

Gellert shook his head.

"It would be unwise for any other to confront him," he mused aloud. "If we can keep him and his men pinned where they are, I would consider that a success. Now, do be a dear and send for the healers, my leg is still quite sore."

"Will it heal?" Cassiopeia asked softly.

"The scars, I fear, will not," Gellert grumbled. "The fire I was burned with was not a simple conjured flame. It was magical in nature but unlike any other fire I have seen. The scars will remain for the rest of my days."

Cassiopeia shot the man a sad smile as she left to fetch the healers.

As well as Gellert was accepting what had happened and what may even come, she could see it did not sit well with him.

Never had he been challenged in such a way in his life, and it was clear his mind was occupied with those thoughts.

Evans was dangerous, not just because he was a talented fighter, but because of his mindset.

Cassiopeia had no doubt the man would cut a path through the entire continent to get to Gellert and hinder the war effort, and there was something quite terrifying in dealing with one so ruthless.

She took comfort in the thought that Gellert was the most resilient person she had met and was confident he would find a way to defeat Evans.

Still, knowing he was out there and against them, was an unsettling thought.

Thus far, The Serpent had been able to get to wherever he wished, and undetected to boot.

It was almost as though the man was a ghost and could appear at any moment to claim any life he wished.

Cassiopeia shook her head.

Despite all of his undeniable competence in the art of war and magic, he was still merely a man who could be killed like any other.

Gellert would find a way.

He always did.

(Break)

The representatives of the ICW eyed him intently, some gazes filled with curiosity and others with more than a hint of questioning. To Harry, it mattered not how they saw him. He wasn't here to win their approval or build relations with leaders of countries.

His main purpose was to see the birth and protection of his child and Minerva, the latter being something he would be attending to the moment he left the ICW headquarters.

"Thank you for joining us, Commander Evans," Abreo greeted him. "I trust that you have recovered from your latest confrontation with Grindelwald?"

"I have," Harry confirmed.

The Frenchman did not appear to be irked with him in any way, the corner of his lips quirking upwards slightly.

"Excellent," Abreo declared. "Now, shall we begin?"

When he received no calls on the contrary, he cleared his throat before speaking once more.

"We have asked you here today for an explanation on a few matters we have been discussing since it was revealed that you are in fact, The Serpent. You do not deny this, non?"

Harry shook his head.

He saw no further reason to conceal that part of his identity.

"No, I don't deny it."

Abreo nodded as he took note of the answer.

"There are many incidents involving yourself under the guise of The Serpent, too many to list, but most pertaining to the ongoing war including carrying out individual attacks resulting in the deaths of dozens of men. Do you deny your involvement in them?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Is this a trial?" he asked. "Do you plan on arresting me?"

Abreo swallowed deeply before shaking his head.

"No, I just wish to clarify a few things with you, Commander," he replied.

Harry hummed in response.

"I don't deny anything," he said with a shrug. "It's not as though anyone can exactly impersonate me."

A few members of the ICW muttered, seemingly unhappy with his answer, but Abreo silenced them with a chastising look.

"Could you explain to us how you first became involved with Grindelwald?"

"That would be during a capture I was asked to undertake by Ivan Federov. The target's name was Karl Katz, a former aide to the German Minister of Magic who had once been a Hit-wizard."

"And Federov asked you to bring him in?"

Harry nodded.

"Ivan had been watching him and suspected that he was feeding information to Grindelwald, but it was much more than that."

"How so?" Doge broke in curiously.

"Katz had somehow obtained a position close to Hitler, likely on Grindelwald's orders. It was mostly due to his efforts that Bulgaria and Czechoslovakia fell to Grindelwald so easily. It was never made clear if he broke the stature of secrecy directly, but there was no doubt of his involvement."

"This would be the same Karl Katz that we have locked away now?"

"I suppose it would," Harry confirmed. "By now, and after an unfortunate incident in Prague, I had garnered Grindelwald's attention. Throughout my work as a Hit-Wizard, I encountered him twice. Once whilst I was acting as a security officer for the muggle Prime Minister during a trip to Germany, and the other when he lured me into a trap whilst I was investigating a series of disappearances in Greece. During the first, he did not know who I was, but when we met in Greece, we fought."

Abreo nodded his understanding.

"And there was your quite infamous duel with Cassiopeia Black," Doge broke in once more, "and your interference in Paris."

"I think we have established that Commander Evans as himself and under the guise of The Serpent has done more than enough to have provoked Grindelwald's ire," Abreo chuckled.

Harry nodded his agreement.

"We merely wished to gain an understanding of how you found yourself so deeply involved in the war," the Frenchman explained. "I am displeased that you did not disclose yourself to me, but I suppose it is the nature of the job."

"It is," Harry agreed. "So, what happens now?"

Abreo shot him a look of confusion.

"Nothing," he answered. "More than anything, we needed clarification of a few things, and you have cleared them up. I cannot think of any reason that any would object for you to continue on in your capacity. You are free to leave, Commander Evans."

Although Abreo had spoken his thoughts, they did not appear those of all, and Harry still found himself being glared at suspiciously by some.

Not that he cared.

Everything he had done had been with the intent to rid the world of Grindelwald, and if they couldn't see that, it was their problem.

Though, it could certainly be deemed that he had broken several laws.

With a nod and a feeling of confusion, Harry took his leave of the chambers with the intention of returning home to ensure Minerva would be safe during his absence, and with the books that Charlus and Arcturus had loaned him, his task would be considerably easier.

The Black wards were infamous for their protective qualities, and Harry felt much better knowing that Minerva and the baby would be kept safely behind them.

(Break)

Harry had written to assure her that he was okay after he had departed suddenly to confront Grindelwald, though Minerva had yet to see him as he had been summoned to meet with the ICW.

In his letter, Harry hadn't mentioned why, but with the various reports in The Daily Prophet throughout the past days, she had no doubt that it pertained to him being revealed as The Serpent.

Harry had hoped he'd be able to conceal that part of his identity longer, but it wasn't to be.

Evidently, he'd needed to resort to his parselmagic during the fight with Grindelwald.

It was indeed a worry for many reasons, but Minerva would wait to discuss it with him before she allowed it to concern her so much.

Nonetheless, in his absence, Minerva had not been idle.

At Harry's insistence, she had been looking for a suitable home for herself, the baby, and hopefully Harry when he was home. She didn't know if Harry intended on staying with them, or he would opt to keep the house he was currently living in. They hadn't discussed that, though Minerva knew what she preferred with that particular arrangement.

Still, it would be up to Harry to make that decision, and she had her own to occupy her mind already.

First and foremost, Minerva needed to consider what she would do when the baby was born. She couldn't well have it in the castle with her, and already she was reluctant to leave her child in the care of anyone else.

It was fortunate that she was on the cusp of gaining her mastery by the end of the school year, but she didn't want to give up her position.

She loved being at Hogwarts and she was hopeful that she would find a way to stay on, even if it was in a part time position, though no mention had been made what would become of her when her apprenticeship came to an end.

She suspected that was what Albus wished to discuss with her now, and as she arrived at his office only a few doors away from the transfiguration, she knocked tentatively and waited until she was bid to enter.

As ever, Albus was poring over a stack of parchment, frowning as he scrutinised the work the seventh years had turned in.

Exam season would be on them soon enough and ensuring their theory work was up to scratch was something her mentor took very seriously.

"Is it that bad?" she asked as she took the seat opposite.

Albus offered her a warm smile.

"Nothing that can't be salvaged," he replied, placing his quill on the desk as he stared at her thoughtfully. "I have been pondering what will happen next year and wish to hear your thoughts on the matter. I had hoped that you would be able to lighten my workload whilst I took some time to study, but given the circumstances, I will understand if you wish to take some leave. I would even encourage it."

"I have been thinking about the same thing," Minerva sighed. "I didn't know if I would still have a place here with my education coming to an end."

Albus chuckled as he shook his head.

"Education never ends," he pointed out. "Your apprenticeship will be over, but there is certainly more that I can teach you, and so much more that you can explore for yourself. Besides, I have already discussed it with Armando, and he would like for you to remain. Even if you choose to take a year off, you will have a position as a professor waiting for you."

For as long as she could remember, this was what Minerva had dreamed of and had been working towards.

"Do I have to make a decision now?"

"No," Albus answered. "You need not make one until after the baby is with us. I suspect you will know then what you should do."

Minerva smiled gratefully.

She hadn't expected to be offered a permanent position, nor for Albus to push her to decide what she would do, and as the man had pointed out, she likely wouldn't know until the child was here.

"I will let you know my decision as soon as possible."

Albus nodded his understanding and smiled as Minerva stood.

"You are positively glowing," he commented. "How did Harry take the news?"

"He was shocked," Minerva snorted, "but he has been amazing. He has me searching for a home and is insisting on employing an elf to help me."

Dumbledore chuckled merrily.

"I believe you will both be wonderful parents, and your child will be as gifted as you both."

"Let's just hope it doesn't have the same proclivity for landing itself in trouble as its father," Minerva huffed amusedly.

"Let us hope not," Albus agreed, his eyes twinkling. "I am so enormously proud of you for all of your work and what you have achieved. Your child will be lucky to have a mother like you."

"And a pain the backside for a father."

"That too," Albus agreed heartily. "Now, I will not take up any more of your time. Are you returning home for the weekend?"

Minerva nodded.

"Harry will be meeting me there once he leaves the ICW. Our time was cut short before we managed to discuss everything, but if he has his way, I will be escorted by armed guards wherever I go."

"I cannot say I blame him for his vigilance," Albus sighed. "The revelation of who he is will be enough for people to question him. Those gifted with his abilities are not looked upon most favourably by some, though Horace has certainly been quiet. I believe he would have liked to have collected Harry and is likely bitter that he cannot attribute his own efforts to Harry's success."

"What about Riddle?"

Dumbledore frowned at the question.

"I fear that he will see this as a challenge, and Harry an obstacle to overcome," he mused aloud. "He would be foolish to act upon his anger, but I urge you to be cautious, Minerva. We may be quite clueless of his capability, but Harry has always been adamant that Tom is not beyond delving into what he deems necessary to achieve his goals."

"Do you believe he would attempt to harm me?"

Albus pondered her words for several moments before shaking his head.

"No, Tom needs Hogwarts. The alternative is to be returned to his home which he abhors, and should he be expelled, the Ministry would seize and snap his wand. I do not believe him to be a threat for now, but I will be watching him closely, as much as I can."

"You still haven't found where he is hiding?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"He vanishes somewhere on the seventh floor," he sighed.

"There are no rooms there," Minerva pointed out.

"That we know of."

Minerva frowned.

The castle was full of hidden passages, perhaps there was one up there?

She shook her head of the thought.

Maybe she would ask Harry about it.

"How are you feeling?" Albus asked, noticing her wince in discomfort.

"Where do I begin?" Minerva huffed. "My feet hurt, I constantly feel sick, and the baby had decided that my bladder is a pillow," she reeled off as she stood.

Albus's laughter rang in her ears as Minerva left the office and returned to the classroom where Armando had connected the fireplace to the floo network so that she could return home without having to take the Knight Bus.

When she did step through the fire to the other side, the sight of her mother reading a muggle newspaper greeted her.

Her father would be attending to his flock for a while yet, so Minerva sat at the table, groaning in relief at no longer being on her feet.

"Long day?" Isobel questioned amusedly.

Minerva scowled at her mother.

"I'm sorry, lass, but I remember just how difficult it was carrying you. A wee part of me is seeing this as revenge."

"Does it get any easier?"

Isobel shook her head.

"No, but I do have some good news that should cheer you up."

Minerva gestured for her mother to continue.

"Mr and Mrs Campbell have decided to sell their home and retire to the Orkneys."

"The Campbells?" Minerva asked, surprised by the news. "Isn't their house a little big?"

"Well, there is nothing else available," Isobel sighed, "not anything close enough that your father would be able to visit regularly."

Minerva nodded her understanding.

"I have already explained that you are looking for a home, and they would be delighted to show you around. I think they'd even be willing to offer it at a considerable discount for a quick sale."

Minerva shook her head uncertainly.

The Campbell's home was just outside the village and was more of an estate than a simple house.

As a young girl, she'd walk past the large gates and stare at the lawns in awe wondering just how it was kept looking so nice.

It wasn't until later that she learned the Campbells came from an affluent clan from further south in the country but had chosen a remote location to live.

Now, it seemed they wished to move on, though Minerva was not convinced by the idea of living in such a large house, and she knew that Harry would have his reservations.

"You should consider it, at least," Isobel urged. "I know it could be more expensive than you would like, but with the war on, there may not be another opportunity for another house."

"I will discuss it with Harry," Minerva promised.

"Well, there's no time like the present," Isobel snorted. "He's just arrived."

Minerva shot to her feet and peered through the window to see Harry walking up the path towards the front door, the sight of him filling her with the same warmth she'd felt when he'd returned in October.

It wouldn't be for long, but he was home, and for now, that was all that mattered.