A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.

ELEVEN

Aboard the Emma Charlotte, En Route to Yorkshire

Off the Eastern of England, United Kingdom

August 29, 1995 ACE

Harry stared at the woman in front of him with an incredulous expression on his face. He had thought that the reason for this late night conversation was the accidental magic that had happened while he was listening to Hermione as she narrated her past experiences at Hogwarts, and Harry had mentally prepared himself for the sermon that his uncle was sure to launch against him.

A sigh escaped from his lips as he turned his gaze to the ceiling. He told himself that he should have known that something like this would happen when he entered the private saloon – part of the owner's apartment complex fore of the top deck – and saw that instead of his aunt and uncle, it was only his aunt who was seated at one of the many plush divans inside the room.

That Harry had made a mistake when he allowed his self-control to slip, he would not deny. He was nearly an adult – having celebrated his fifteenth birthday just last month – and yet he was still susceptible to making the mistakes that an eleven year old child should have avoided.

In his defense, Harry would claim that the moment that he realized that Hermione was in danger – even if it was in the past and even if the presence of Hermione clearly meant that she survived that encounter – his control slipped and his emotions got the better of him. He was sure that his uncle would see that as forgivable, but he knew that that would not excuse him from a dressing down from the man.

Harry forced himself to return to the present. He returned his attention toward his aunt – she was wearing a smile on her face and she stared at him as she waited for an answer to the question that she had just asked her nephew, a question that Harry had to admit he did not expect even after he realized that it would be his aunt rather than his uncle who would be interrogating him – and fought the urge to sigh. The smile on her face remained undisturbed, but Harry knew his aunt, he knew that she was on the verge of restating the question again, and Harry knew that his aunt hated asking the same question twice, unless, of course, it was her husband trying his best to irritate her.

This time, Harry lost the fight and a sigh escaped from him through his lips. His aunt must have known that he was actively fighting the urge because in reaction to the sigh that came out of him, the smile on the face of Emma broadened.

Harry fought the urge to sigh as he forced himself to return to the present. The question that his aunt had asked was quick to return to the forefront of his mind, but that was because he was so taken by surprise with the question that even if he wanted to drive it away from his mind, it had already proven impossible.

"I don't know," Harry finally said. It was the first thing that came across his mind when he thought of an answer to the question, but just because it was the first thing that came through his mind does not mean that it was any less true.

The question of his aunt that had caught him unprepared was, 'Do you like Hermione?', and at this stage, Harry was not sure what he should tell his aunt. He knew that he likes Hermione, but he also knew that his aunt has a terrible habit of jumping to conclusions. Harry had no doubt that she would jump to conclusions with Hermione as well, and the fact that he lost control of his magic when he was informed of the things that Hermione went through would certainly not help matters.

Harry noticed the frown on the face of his aunt and once more, he fought the urge to sigh as he was sure that his aunt was about to express her displeasure with him with the answer that he had just given. Emma, however, merely kept her gaze at her nephew, before she finally gave him a belated nod.

"You're just like your uncle when he was your age," she replied, the smile of amusement on her face undeniable, as was the love that she felt for the man who was her other half, "He was sure that we would end up married, yet he could never find the courage to tell his parents that we are going to get married."

The ears of Harry perked up at the mention of 'parents', specifically, the parents of his uncle. Harry had met the parents of his aunt twice before the tragedy of their death – her father to cancer and her mother to a heart disease – took them away. As for the parents of his uncle, however, Harry could count the number of times that they have been mentioned in front of him on one hand with fingers to spare.

Harry was not sure if it was because his uncle was estranged from them or if it was something else, and the different friends of his aunt and uncle that Harry had spoken with never really mentioned his parents or the relationship of his uncle with them.

Harry, however, shook his head and once more forced himself to return to the present. He focused his attention at his aunt at the same time that she said, "Your uncle was very disappointed that you lost control of your magic," she began, but before Harry could ask the obvious question – 'where is he?' – she continued, "he really should learn to relax more, so I tied him in bed and turned the lights off," she started to laugh under her breath and added, "Then I cast a sleeping charm on his face so he won't be able to untie the ropes."

Harry could only nod at that. He suspected that her aunt was about to enter forbidden territory, so before she could do so – and cause Harry to wish for an obliviator – he interrupted her, "Auntie, what made you ask that question?" he asked.

Harry, of course, already knew the answer, but that was the first question that came across his mind as he searched for a way to prevent his aunt from entering uncharted territory. She knew, of course, because she smiled at him and shook her head at her nephew, an indication that she knew what Harry was doing.

Emma, however, was not her husband. She could – and she would – concede this one to Harry, "It is quite obvious," she replied in a matter-of-factly tone. She paused for a few moments before she added, "She has a tough exterior; she needed the tough exterior."

"After everything that she had gone through at that school, I do not doubt that," Harry replied. He unconsciously clenched his fists as he thought about Hogwarts, and though Harry was unaware of his actions, the smile on the face of his aunt was in response to the involuntary action of Harry.

For a few moments, silence descended between the two occupants of the private saloon. Emma stared at her nephew with the tiniest hint of uncertainty written on her eyes. It was an amount so small that Harry – despite the fact that he was staring at his aunt – did not even notice it.

"Are you going to declare for her?" Emma suddenly asked. Once more, the question surprised Harry, and the fifteen year old could do nothing but stare at her aunt as if she was suddenly bereft of reason, but before Harry could say anything, Emma added, "From the story that she had told us, there are at least two boys who are actively courting her, it could be three if Viktor Krum was a student in that school, and I am sure that there are others."

"Her tough exterior drove most away," Harry replied. His eyes suddenly widened as he realized what he had just said and he focused all of his attention at his aunt and asked, "She's like you, isn't it?"

Emma laughed even as she shook her head, "No Harry, she is not like me," she replied, but then she stopped laughing and fixed her nephew a stern look that clearly stated that she would broker no argument in the issue that she was about to bring up, "There can be no way that we are the same, I am older than her, but I suspect I know what you are thinking about right now, Harry, and all I can say is, I am not sure."

Harry stared at her aunt for a few moments before he finally nodded. He was, however, unable to say anything because just as he was about to open his mouth, his aunt interrupted him again, "If, in the off chance that she has the same tendencies as me, you must remember that it doesn't give you – or anyone else for that matter – the right to take advantage of her."

"Do you think..?" Harry began, but before he could even finish his question, he paused. He saw the smile on the face of his aunt and that prompted him to continue, "I don't think she is, Auntie."

Emma smiled, "I thought your uncle has taught you to never judge a book by its cover?" she asked rhetorically. She quickly continued, "Whether she is, or whether she is not, is up for you to find out," she paused before she added, once more in a tone that clearly indicated that she would broker no argument from him, "In either case, you will protect her," she stared at him, and Harry actually cringed at the fire that burned behind the eyes of his foster mother, "You are the son of James Potter – who would allow not a single insult directed at Lily Evans to pass – and you were raised by Alex York – who would not hesitate to maim anyone who would insult me – you will protect her even if she were to turn down your suit."

Harry nodded, twice. So surprised was he of the force behind the words of his aunt that he had to nod twice in order to make sure that she understood that he got the message. This was the first time that Harry had ever seen his aunt like this and though she had not raised her voice, the intent was there for Harry – for anyone, really – to see.

A few moments later, Harry bade his aunt 'goodnight' after she indicated that their conversation was over. Harry quickly retreated to his room – although his room was located within the owner's apartment fore of the top deck, there was still a considerable distance between the private saloon and his room – and for the first time since he could remember, Harry was anxious to be away from his aunt.

Emma watched in silence as the young man that the boy that she had raised became disappeared from her view. She closed her eyes and shook her head twice before she opened them again, and when she opened them, she was not surprised to see her husband seated in front of her. There was a frown on his face as he absently rubbed his wrists together – she noted the rope burns – and the frown on his face caused her to smile.

She watched in silence as Alex turned her attention toward the corridor where Harry had disappeared and for a few moments, Emma was allowed the time to think. Now that time had passed, Emma would be the first to admit that her decision – and her insistence – that she and her husband be the ones to raise Harry was influenced by the news that her body was unable to fix itself to the point that she would be able to bear children, but she had never regretted that, even if she knew that the boy would someday spread his wings and move on.

With a soft smile directed inward, Emma reminded herself that this would not have had to happen if she had not been foolhardy, if she had not insisted on being a grown-up when it was clear that she was not yet ready for the world, and if she had listened to her heart. Her mind flashed back to the past and she asked herself if she had made the right decision then, perhaps…

"It happens," the voice of her husband tore Emma out of her reverie, and with a start, she realized that a single tear had actually escaped from her lips. She recognized the trap that she was about to fall in, and was thankful that – as always – he was there to catch her.

She managed a smile as she focused all of her attention at her husband and said, "It would appear that Harry is not the only one who is losing control today," she commented dryly. The tear – and the sad look on his face that brought a frown on the face of her husband – disappeared and she managed a mischievous smile before she asked, "How did you get away from the bed?"

Instead of a disappearing, the frown on the face of Alex broadened. He fixed his wife a look of irritation and finally answered the question, "I am an expert with ropes, Dearest Love, I taught you everything you know about ropes, but I did not teach you everything that I know."

"There is that," she replied, she inclined her head toward her husband and started to laugh. Despite that laugh, there was a hint of trepidation that marinated the sound.

Her musical laughter, however, was enough to remove the frown on the face of her husband. Within a few moments, there was a smile on the face of Alex, but before he could say anything, Emma once more took control of the conversation, "I suppose that I need to be punished now, Sir," she replied coyly.

Alex looked at his wife seriously. The look on her face was one that Alex knew well, but at that moment, he was not sure if she was in the proper state of mind for the games that they play in their bedroom. He shook his head and was about to invite her to a serious conversation between the two of them, but it was clear that Emma would have none of it.

"I need this, Alex," she said, and from the tone that she had used, it was clear that she was serious, "Make me forget the wrong things that I had done in my life, remind me that even as stupid and as broken as I am, you accepted me," she fixed her eyes at him and even Alex had to cringe when he saw the fire that burned behind her eyes, "Remind me, my Love, my Master, that I am yours and I would always be yours."

For a few moments, Alex just stared at his wife. It was clear – to both of them – that at that moment, he sought a way out of this situation, but after a few moments, he finally nodded. He pushed himself back to his feet and Emma watched in silence – and unmistakable building excitement – as he deliberately and slowly made his way to her.

At the right distance, he extended his hand toward her and she took it. The feeling of his hand in hers relaxed her far better than anything in the world and she felt safe, but before she could get comfortable, her husband pulled her to her feet and before she could react, she found her lips but a few millimeters away from his, "Mine and always mine," he said.

The distance between their lips ensured that his breath softly caressed her lips, but before Emma could say anything, Alex silenced her using a simple move. He smacked his lips on hers and at that moment, everything was perfect in their worlds.

Lowest Levels of the Ministry of Magic, London

England, United Kingdom

August 29, 1995 ACE

Though the two guards that the Order of the Phoenix had posted on the sole entrance to the most secret department of the British Ministry of Magic were under cloaks of invisibility, the two men knew that the other was close by where he stood.

There was an almost perfect silence along the dark and narrow hallway that led from the ministry lift to the courtroom where Michael Potter had recently undergone his trial for underage magic, and finally, the door to the Department of Mysteries.

Not even the Minister of Magic could enter the Department of Mysteries without an invitation, a fact that the two who had drawn guard duty for the night knew. It had caused Minister Fudge no end of bitterness, and the man could not even retaliate because even the ever boastful Cornelius Fudge knew that he could not take on even one unspeakable, let alone the entire department, the members of whom are unknown even to him. The Minister was not even aware how many work for that department.

The caretaker of the British Ministry of Magic also could not attack the Department of Mysteries through their budget, because the Department of Mysteries has the lowest budget in the annual budget reports. That they actually spend more than the whole of the Ministry put together could not be doubted, but wherever that money came from, no one but the members of the Department knew.

Arthur Weasley – patriarch of the Weasley family, member of the Order of the Phoenix, and one of the two men who had guard duty for the evening – was not even sure if the members of the Department themselves are aware where their money came from.

The red-haired Department subhead, however, shook his head as he turned his attention away from the door and back toward the narrow hallway. This was the only entrance and exit into the secluded area where the Department of Mysteries was located that he knew of. Of course, Arthur knew that there was another exit – there had to be because the members of the Department rarely use this narrow hallway in their comings and goings in their Department – but where that exit is, no one knew.

A sigh escaped from the lips of Arthur before he narrowed his eyes. The dark hallway in front of him held nothing but darkness and he knew that if all goes well, he knew that he would be spending the next eight hours staring at nothing but darkness. This was not his first time at this duty, but this was the first time that he would stood on duty with a fellow member of the Order with him.

Arthur fought the urge to sigh as he remembered the reason why there are now two members on guard at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. Although no one amongst the rank and file members of the Order knew exactly what was hidden behind the walls of the Department of Mysteries that warranted a nightly guard, they had been told that should You-Know-Who enter the Department, he would come to possess a weapon that could potentially win him the coming war.

With so few members in the Order, a guard duty in this area was a constant sap of manpower for the organization, but the leader of the Order – Albus Dumbledore – insisted on having someone guard the Department every night.

With the arrest of Sturgis Podmore over his attempts to enter the Department, the Headmaster had decided that there would be two guards from that moment on. Another sigh threatened to escape from the lips of Arthur, but this time, he fought the urge. The red-haired father of seven knew that the Order could not sustain this drain on their resources, but at the same time, the Headmaster had impressed upon every member of the organization how important it is to keep the 'weapon' out of the hands of You-Know-Who.

An unnatural sound that came from the end of the narrow hallway drew the attention of Arthur and he instantly had his attention toward that direction. His wand followed from his sleeves a few moments later and before he could even think about it, he actually had the business end of his wand pointed toward that direction.

A quick glance to his side confirmed that his partner for the evening – Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the squad leaders of the Auror Corps – also had his wand out and had pointed it at the same direction as the wand of Arthur. The head of the Weasley family confirmed this because while Shack remained underneath his own invisibility cloak, he had his wand hand outside of the cloak.

As soon as the unnatural sound that had warned Arthur echoed in his ears, however, it was gone. For a few moments, the two men kept their wands trained on an unseen target. They both knew that this stillness might be the calm before the storm and though both are aware that if this was a full scale attack, there was nothing that they could do, still, both are going to hold the line at the same time that they pray for reinforcements.

A few seconds passed before Arthur allowed himself to relax a bit. His alertness had not left him even though he had already withdrawn his hand back underneath the cloak – beside him, he noted that Shack had done the same – and his gaze was still focused on the end of the narrow hallway.

Suddenly, there was another unnatural sound. Arthur and Shack once more turned their attention – and the business end of their wands – toward the direction. Both narrowed their eyes as they realized that they are not alone in this hallway – after all, it had already happened twice – but at that moment, they still could not confirm that whoever it was on the other end had hostile intent.

It was possible that a member of the Ministry Maintenance Services was making his rounds, but both Arthur and Shack knew that the chances of that – while possible – are very slim.

Another unnatural sound emanated from the other end of the corridor, but this time, instead of a single sound, it was quickly followed by laughter. The unnerving laughter echoed around the ears of both Arthur and Shack to the point that both men suddenly found themselves unable to concentrate properly. As soon as the laughter began, however, it ended.

The two men realized that there was no point in remaining invisible – more likely than not, they would get in the way of the other if they do not remove their cloaks – and stepped out of the cloaks that had covered them from head to toe. Arthur shot Shack a quick glance, just a fraction of a second and enough for the Auror to know that Arthur had just requested that he send a request for reinforcements.

"Expecto Patronum," the captain of the first auror squad mumbled under his breath. There was a brief flash of light from the business end of the wand of Shack, but the guardian that he had summoned – Arthur remembered that Shack's Patronus is a lynx – did not appear in front of Shack as was the usual sequence of events. Arthur knew that the patronus was already on its way to the headquarters of the Order.

The loud sound of two clash cymbals as they crashed against each other made Arthur and Shack return their attention to the other side of the corridor from where they stood. Both men tightened their grip at their wands, convinced that they are about to be attacked.

The sound of the cymbals grew louder and louder but the two members of the Order steeled their resolve. What happened next surprised the two of them for the reason that it was totally unexpected.

A wind-up doll dressed in the red-coat of a British soldier of the Napoleonic Era and stepped out of the shadows even as it continued to crash the clash cymbals that it carried against each other. The sound made by the two pieces of brass as they crashed against each other echoed around the narrow hallway, the sound waves – although invisible – reflected by the box like construction of the passageway.

Arthur and Shack fought to maintain their concentration, with the head of the Weasley family reciting underneath his breath a mantra, "Help is coming," he tried to convince himself, "help is coming."

The toy soldier continued its march, but like any windup machine, the kinetic energy stored when the key was rounded finally ran out, and the toy was left in front of Arthur and Shack who stared at the head of the doll.

"What the hell?" Arthur heard Shack asked, but before Arthur can reply, the doll did something that it should not be capable of doing.

With dexterity that should only be possible for something that had muscles and joints instead of hard plastic and wood, the doll turned its head toward Arthur and Shack like a human being. The smile on the face of the doll broadened until its face resembled a deranged man before the silence that had descended on the hallway was broken by a loud sound. The doll once more crashed the clash cymbals that it was carrying.

Arthur and Shack jumped from where they stood and apparently, the doll found that amusing because it suddenly start to laugh. What started out as normal laughter steadily turned into a maniacal laugh to match the deranged look on the face of the toy. The two members of the Order stared at the windup toy at the same time that it dropped the brass that it was carrying – and the sound was loud.

For a few moments, the red coat stared at the two – obviously taller – men in front of it. Arthur and Shack cannot help but stare back at the toy, the shock – not to mention the awe – of both reflected on their face. Without warning, however, the red coat suddenly drew the sword that it wore on its side. Although it was a toy, the blade gleamed, and the two members of the Order that even though this doll was a toy, the sword that it had drawn was not.

The toy, however, held its ground. Both Arthur and Shack were prepared to bet that the doll was going to attack them, so the fact that it stayed its ground surprised them. Slowly, the doll hefted the saber that it had on its hand and pointed the tip toward the two men who tensed and mentally prepared themselves to cast their shields.

Again, the doll held its ground, but a new sound that emanated from the far end of the corridor had the attention of the two members of the Order the moment that it started. The two men would later recall that it was the sound of a thousand boots marching, though they would also admit that perhaps their statement was influenced by the fact that when they gave that statement, they had already seen what was making that noise.

Countless dolls – dressed in the same way as the first one, though none appeared to have a sword, instead, all of them were carrying toy rifles – appeared out of the darkness. The windup toys marched in perfect unison and formation before they formed a firing line in front of the two men.

Before Arthur and Shack could react, the first doll – the officer – shouted an order, and the new dolls responded as one. Arthur and Shack found themselves staring at a line of redcoats with their rifles pointed toward them and the eyes of both men widened as the toys opened fire.

The two adults quickly placed a shield charm between their bodies and the firing line. Their shields were more than enough to stop the projectiles that had been fired from the toy rifles, but they knew that as long as they kept their shields up, they could not counterattack.

With amazing speed, the windup dolls had reloaded their weapons and within five seconds, their officer-doll had ordered another volley, but like the first, this volley was stopped by the shields of Arthur and Shack.

The two members of the Order watched with incredulity as the officer-doll actually shook its head before it raised its left hand. Almost immediately, the firing line in front of Arthur and Shack reformed into two squares, though it soon became obvious that they formed into squares not because they are going to retreat.

From the darkness, another group of windup dolls emerged, but these new dolls are not armed with rifles. What they had between them, however, was certainly far deadlier than the massed lead that came from the muzzle of the toy guns.

The windup redcoats that appeared out of the darkness pulled and pushed half a dozen smoothbore cannons that the dolls quickly pointed against Arthur and Shack. The toys were amazing in their coordination as they loaded the cannons and within just three seconds, all six were ready to fire.

A command from the officer-doll and the sound of the cannons as they fired thundered across the hallway, their large iron balls impacting the shields of Arthur and Shack. At first, the shields held, but the two men could feel the drain that those tiny balls of iron siphoned from their magical cores, and both men knew that they probably would not survive a second volley.

Unfortunately for them, the redcoat dolls had already prepared their second volley and before they could react, the officer-doll had already ordered his subordinates to fire. This time, the tiny iron balls broke through the shields of Arthur and Shack, but the two of them remained relatively safe, after all, it was only their shields that had failed. Before they could react, however, the square of redcoat footmen reformed their firing line and a quick order from the officer-doll followed.

Hundreds of tiny lead ball were fired from the tiny muzzles of the toy rifles. Arthur and Shack could do nothing but stare as the balls hit their bodies. Although they were small, the balls were deadly and soon, the two men bled from the more than four dozen holes in their bodies. What was worse, however, was that it appeared that those tiny iron balls had a way to siphon off the strength of those that it hit and before Arthur and Shack could do anything, they found themselves on the ground.

Before they lost consciousness, however, they saw another sight that both found awe-inspiring. Atop windup horses, a full squadron of windup dolls dressed as British heavy cavalry charged against them, swords drawn. Mercifully, both men blacked out before they could find out how painful those tiny swords could be.

Albus Dumbledore and a strike team from the Order of the Phoenix arrived in the area fifteen minutes later, their wands drawn and from the visage on their faces, it was clear that they are prepared to fight. When they got to the Department, however, the damage was already done.

Arthur and Shack would live, the wounds that they had suffered quickly seen to and closed by magic. A quick check – by the Headmaster himself – within the Department – the door was open after all – however, confirmed the worst fears of the Headmaster, though at the same time, it left him with a question.

He had expected his former student to take the prophecy sphere, but when he got to the shelf where that particular sphere was kept, the first thing that he saw was broken glass where the prophecy used to be. Although the Headmaster cannot be sure if whoever broke the prophecy listened to it, he was sure that whoever attacked his guards was not his former students.

After all, Arthur and Shack are both alive, and Albus knew that if it was Tom, both men would already be dead. The Headmaster shuddered involuntarily – a first after so many years – as he realized that there must be a third player in this developing war, and that was not in his plans.