1 November 1992

	Now, it had not been long since he got out of the army, and having
nothing better to do, he had gone to England, since home was dry and dusty and
hot, not much like the parts of Kuwait and Iraq he had seen, really, but England
was not anything like them at all, more like Panama, but colder, a paler green,
and more dank than humid.  He quite liked it, really.  

	Since long before he had joined up, close to seven years before, one of
his favorite pastimes was scrounging.  He still had a couple months on his
initial tourist visa, so she was still hoarding, and had yet to think about how
to dispose of it when she had to leave.  

	The short, thirtyish woman idly lifted the lid on yet another bin in
Surrey, muttered `Garbage,' and let it fall again with a wrinkling of her
nose.  She walked off, wondering if there was an SCA event on or something,
since there were a lot of people in garb, even if it was closer to Victorian
than period.  SCA people generally had more sense than to get up at dawn to
carouse with mundanes, however.

	The mundanes did not seem to have any clue what was going on, either.

	The fireworks were nice, and the cat reading a map . . . _that_ was
definately worth putting off a day of trash-picking for.  With skill learned
more wandering about in the woods to get away from his fellow soldiers than
from the army, she followed the cat discreetly as she walked up Privet Drive to
Number Four.  

	Now the look on the man at the corner's face was nearly as amusing as
the cat rechecking her map and nodding after she read the sign, so she thought
it best not to be seen when he got back, so, once the cat jumped up onto the
wall to watch the house she pulled her woodland camo field jacket on over her
t-shirt, tucked her pack up under the only useful bit of concealment, a big
bushy bush across the street, and spent a fairly boring morning surveilling
the cat surveilling number four.  Even with the wierdness of surveilling a
cat, it gets boring quickly.

	The woman of the house is horrid.  The baby is spoiled and, somehow,
mean already.  She had not thought that was possible before, really.   She
credits being able to stay awake despite the dreadfully boring task to the
army, and six years of dreadful annoyance and mild hassle.  No one returned to
the house she was in front of.  The cat doesn't even flinch when an owl drifts
up the street almost silently.  At about 18 the car, and the man driving it,
she saw at the corner that morning returned to number four, and she perked up
when he tried to shoo the cat.  The cat just tilted her head, and he stalked
inside in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

	Around half-past dark the cat turned from the house, and looked back
towards the corner she could not see.  Knowing that meant the cat could see
her location as well, she did not turn to look.

	A few hours later the streetlights went out, one at a time in
sequence, before the blurry pale shape of a tall, white-bearded man
walked up to sit next to the cat.  He turned to her and said, `Fancy seeing
you here, Professor McGonagall.'

	The cat, she noticed, had by this time become a tall, slender woman
with long black hair pulled back in a severe bun and a dark cloak.
McGonagall, she guessed, replied, `How did you know it was me?'

	`My dear Professor, I've never known a cat to sit so stiffly,' the man
smirks a little.

	`You'd be stiff too,' began the conversation, much of which she never
could recall as well as she would have liked, full of names and ideas and
references to "eleven years" and "muggles" and "Voldemort."

	Less interesting at first glance and more important after a
half-second's thought was `I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle.
They're the only family he has left now.'

	That got her attention, and she quite agreed with McGonagall's
objection.

	The mention of Hagrid and the flying motorcycle were even more
fascinating, but she did not break cover.  Serious Black?  What a funny name,
have to look him up sometime.

	Hagrid, at least, seemed to have the proper idea about leaving any
baby, but particularly a magical one, on _that_ doorstep, even if the other
two, Dumbledore, that's right, the tall skinny git, managed to overrule him.

	A ball of light flew up to the streetlight in front of her, and the
light came back on.  She watched the boy sleep until the sky started to
lighten, then pulled herself and her ruck out from under the bush, yawned,
stretched, adjusted her bra, then jiggered with her breasts until they hung
mostly straight again.  She walked up to the porch of Number Four and knelt
next to the baby, and chuckled his cheek gently.  He was at least a year old,
she guessed, as he woke with a smile in sleepy green eyes.

	She pushed her glasses up on her nose, `What are we going to do with
you?' she asked.

	He reached for her glasses, and wrapped strong little fingers around
the finger she proffered instead.  She sighed, `Maybe they won't be so
horrible if they have to put up a bit of a fight for you,' she told him, then
took her finger back.  He pouted as she tied the drawstring at the bottom of
her field jacket, zipped it halfway up, and snapped it to that point as well
before carefully tucking the child inside.

	The letter and blankets went into the pack, on top of the only
treasure from yesterday, a 5.25" full-height computer hard drive she had found
in the first dumpster.  She was fairly sure it was MFM, and thought she had a
controller that would work it, if it wasn't completely dead.  She swung her
pack up on her back.

	`You OK?  I didn't squish you, did I?' she asked him.

	He smiled and giggled.

	`Good.  Now, lets go see what I have to do to keep you.'

	She walked off towards the bus stop with more swagger and bounce than
she needed, her half-empty pack jingling with each step, and little Harry
laughing happily, fingers tight on her t-shirt.

2 November 1992

	She jostled the baby in her coat, amazed he has not started crying
once, smiled at him, which made him grin back, and looked up at the woman
behind the counter, `I've got this baby,' she started, `And I need to know
what I need to do to keep him.'

	`What do you mean?' the woman behind the counter asked.

	`I mean I watched him get left out on the front step about midnight,
and watched him until dawn, and no one came out or gave any sign they were
going to come out and get him, so I picked him up.'

	`Really?  Where did you pick him up?'

	`They said they were his aunt and uncle, Dursley, I think.  His name's
Harry Potter.'

	`Potter, Potter,' the children's services clerk tapped away at her
computer for a moment, `Are you a witch?'

	`Yes,' she lied.

	`Then,' the clerk blinked at the computer, `I hate that statute, I need
your name, an oath on your magic that you'll take care of him, and I can give
you the paperwork,' the clerk tapped away some more.

	`That's it?' she asked, `What if I'm one of Voldishort's followers?'

	`You look too normal for that.'

	She looked down at her BDU bottoms bloused into scuffed black boots,
field jacket, and the pack at her feet, then back up at the clerk.

 	The clerk said, `They never wear muggle clothes, the pureblood
bastards, and you've obviously worked in your life.  I think you'll be good
for him.'

	`I'm not a British citizen.'

	`We can work around that.  Is resident alien good enough?' the clerk
pulled a form out, and slid it across the desk, then followed it with a dozen
others.

	`Fill out the top sheet Miz,' the clerk said, looking for the nametape
that is no longer on her field jacket.

	`Do you want my real name, or the one on my passport?'

	`Real name first, then the one on your passport in parenthesis.'

	`Then the family name is Xom, and the personal name is Wren,' she
ruffled her mouse brown hair, finally grown back out to neck length.

	`The oath is as follows, "I swear on my magic that I will protect the
boy I know as Harry Potter as if he was my own, blood, flesh and bone."'

	`Do we need a witnes?' Wren asked.

	`Mister Patil!' the clerk called.

	A few minutes later, with the tall Indian man as witness, Wren Xom
swore, then left to find her baby, and herself,  breakfast, the paperwork
tucked into her pack under the blankets.

x-x
Questions:

How much hassle should Wren go through with the Ministry?

Did you know that one of the medics I've been working with's name is Zeller?

How long until the death eaters show up?

x-x

2 November 1992

	She had forgotten, or never learned, she was not sure which, how much
hassle feeding a small child could be.  She got most of the oatmeal into him,
and a bit of juice, but his face still needed washing afterwards.  His diaper,
rather amazingly, was still clean, and she frowned at him, `I hope that's
because of magic.'

	He smiled back, reaching for her hair.  She let him play with it for a
moment, then sat him down next to her in front of the coffee table of her
flat, and started working on the stack of papers.  She frowned, glanced at
Harry, who was busily trying to eat one of her cargo-pocket buttons, and told
him `I don't believe I'll be done with these before lunch.  What would you
like to eat?'

	Harry continued to slobber on her button, smiling.

	`Something green, then?  Broccoli?' she frowned, `Are you old enough to
eat mushy food, or does it still need to be mush?  I'm glad you're weaned,
though, because you'd be quite disappointed,' she glanced at her chest, shook
her head, and went back to her paperwork.

	Two pages later Harry gave up on the button, and got up on all four
limbs, clumping over to one of the table legs before using it to pull himself
to his feet.  He returned Wren's smile, and looked up on top of the table for
a few moments before he decided it was boring and took off for the other side
of the room.  Wren spent a moment contemplating the pile of computer parts he
was headed for then followed him, `I know you slept all night, and I didn't,
but if you don't calm down I'm going to have to find something else to do with
you if I'm going to finish these damned papers.'

	Harry grinned at her, slapping into the stack of computer chassis
hands-first, then began to climb.

	Wren slapped a hand down on top of it when it wobbled a bit, `Careful,
you don't want those falling on you!  You'd be squished!'

	`Skished!' Harry smiled, tilting his head back to look, little hands
holding firmly.

	`Well, if you're climbing you shouldn't stop.  Get up here.'

	`Skished!' Harry repeated, and got to the top of the stack, about
twice his own height.  He could not find a handhold to get to the top of the
stack, and whined in frustration, at which point Wren gathered him off.

	`Sorry, kid, maybe later.  Got to get that paperwork done.'

	Harry protested as Wren walked back over to the table.

	`Look, kid, you'll need to use words, I'm not proficient in baby yet,'
Wren sat down indian style and tucked the baby into her lap, `Once we get this
done,' she groans, filling in the same information as the last form in a
different order, `We can go back, ask a couple questions, and turn these in,
and then we can go to a park or something, OK?'

	`OKay,' Harry said, then, a few pages later, `Bored.'

	`Well, those are good words to know,' Wren told him, `Haven't got much
in the way of baby-safe toys,' she glances around the flat, which is rather
barren, even in comparison to his barracks rooms, which always had enough
books to scare other soldiers, tools, and assorted things she was playing with.

	She spotted the Rubik's Cube she'd spent the flight from America
subduing, and smiled, `So long as I do't let you peel the corners off, it
should be safe,' she told him.  She got up, got it, brought it back, and
proceeded to show him all the sides, `This is "solved."  You can twist it
about like so,' she gave it a quick scramble, `to mix it up, and then you put
it back to normal.  It takes me about ten hours still to get that, I'm
probably missing something important, but I'm not sure what.  You interested?'

	A broad grin shows a lot of pink gum, and she handed him the toy.  He
could not turn it with his hands, and frowned, turning it over and over, then
sucking on a corner for a moment, then braced it between his thighs and turned
with both hands.  That made it move, and he turned a triumphant grin up at
Wren.

	`Good, good.  Almost half-done at this point, so if you can keep
playing with that, we can get these turned in and go for some lunch.'

	`Lunch?' Harry asked, looking up from the cube, which he had managed
to scramble a little more.

	`Lunch,' Wren nodded, `But not until after the paperwork's done.'

	`Bad paperwook.'

	`Paperwork,' Wren stressed it a bit.

	`Paperwoak?'

	`Urk.  Paperwork.'

	`Paperwork?' Harry tried again.

	`Got it.  Paperwork, forms, documents.  Annoying stuff, whatever you
call it.'

	`Bad paperwork,' Harry repeated.

	`Bad paperwork,' Wren agreed with a nod and a smile, then turned to
write down her name again.

	-x-

	Wren dropped the pile of paperwork on, she looked around again, to see
if she'd a nameplate or something, the clerk's desk.

	The clerk looked up, `Mz. Xom,' she smiled, `There've been six people
by looking to adopt that boy already,' she turned her attention to the pile of
documents, `Any questions?'

	`On the 1863, do you want home of record, current address, or what?'

	-x-

	`Thank you, Mz. Zeller,' Wren took her passport back, and tucked her
resident alien cards inside it.

	`We can arrange a passport with your real name on it, too, if you'd
like,' Muriel said, smiling, `It might help you pass a little easier.'

	`I,' she paused, `I'd like that.  What,' she shook her head, `I don't
know much about the magical community in Britain, could you recommend some
books, and I should find a job, since I'll run out of money in a few months.'

	`I,' Muriel paused, `I'll need to ask my wife, but we can probably
have you over for dinner and take you to Diagon Alley afterwards.  Would seven
be good for you?'

	Wren smiled broadly, `That'd be wonderful, thank you.'

	`Do you have a phone?'

	`Not at the moment, I hardly call anyone, so,' she shrugged.

	`Here's my number, give us a call at about six, and we'll come pick
you up,' The tall woman handed Wren a card.

	`Thank you.'

	Harry waved from inside Wren's jacket.

	Wren smiled down at him, then asked Muriel, `How are my chances?'

	`Pretty good.  He was abandoned for eight hours, which under the old
rules means he's yours, and under the new rules gives you first refusal.  You
started the paperwork at 7:30, when we opened for the day, so that shows due
diligence, and had the paperwork done and filed by 11:00.  I think the only
way anyone's going to be able take him away from you will be to kill you,'
Muriel shook her head, `And with You Know Who gone his followers should go to
ground, but be careful anyway.'

	`Thank you for the warning, Mz. Zeller.'

	`You're very welcome.'

	-x-

	Wren set the squirming child down in the park, next to the monkey
bars, and he promptly made for them with all haste, arms spread as he half-ran
the six feet.  The first crossbar was just over his head, but he made it
easily, and the next.  Two more and he was up almost level with Wren's face,
and he grinned at her.

	`Goodness, kid, and they said I was a climber.  You keep that up and
we'll have to build a cage for you to sleep in,' she half-joked, climbing
through to the inside as he reached the top of the outside wall and started
towards the higher center section.

	He made it half-way before loosing his footing and swinging down by
his hands.

	Wren did not catch him, but reached out,  ready to catch him if he
needed it, `Whoops!  Careful, I won't always be here to catch you, so, can you
get back up, or do you need a rescue?'

	Harry's face screwed up in consternation as he wiggled and kicked,
trying to get more than his hands and chin back over the bar, six feet off the
ground, `Hand!'

	Wren cought one of his feet and supported it, `Like this?'

	Harry pushed hard, and with Wren's help got back onto the bar, flopped
across the top with a big grin on his face as he looks down at Wren, `Good.'

	After an hour of climbing, including an unsuccessful attempt on one of
the supporting legs for the swingset, Harry started to drag, then whine, then
fell on his face, dead to the world, in the sand by the teeter-totter.

	`Well, at least you're quiet and happy, kid,' Wren told Harry's
sleeping form.  She was half-tempted to pick him up by one ankle to see if
he would wake, but controlled herself, settling the sleeping child on her hip
as she started back towards her flat.

	-x-

	Wren had just passed the red phonebooth on the corner three blocks
from her flat when two *POP* noises sounded behind her.  She startled, diving
for cover, the motion rendered awkward by Harry's soft weight on her hip.  She
rolled, setting Harry next to her before starting to her feet, embarrased,
even as she looked for whatever she mistook for gunfire.

	`Get the kid, Nott,' the taller of the two black-robed figures said,
his face, like his companions', hidden behind a white mask.

	Wren was quite sure they weren't there when she passed the phone
booth.

	Nott started towards her, and flicked the longish thing in his hand,
starting to say, `Avad-'

	Before the decision that anyone with the bad taste to try and scare
anyone with a young kid on their hip deserves to get their ass whupped fully
crystalized in her head, Wren had taken the three steps needed to put her
shoulder into Nott's gut.

	He slumped, groaning.

	His friend yelled, `AVADRA KADABRA!' or something like it, and Wren
twisted, putting Nott between them.  A flicker of green covered the black-clad
form on her shoulder, and he slumped, a look of shock on his face.

	`REDUCTO!' the friend called, and a redish beam blows a chunk out of 
the sidewalk between Nott's feet.  Wren blinked, punched Nott in the balls,
and nodded once when he didn't even flinch.

	Wren pulled the Spiderco Clipit from her hip pocket, flicked it
open, then shoved Nott off towards his friend, flowing awkwardly around the
falling corpse, knife held edge up, ready for a slash at the remaining enemy.

	`REDUCTO!'

	Wren did not quite manage to dodge, and flinched at the impact.  She
took the remaining two steps to the tall man remaining without looking to see
the damage, slashing towards his belly.  She was blackly amused to note why
it hurt, as she bled all over his black robes, a soft jet of blood pulsing
from between the shattered bones of her wrist, and grabbed his wand with her
left hand, pulled down and away as she shifted her target and slammed the
stump into his throat.

	His hand opened convulsively as he gasped silently around his crushed
trachea, blood flowing freely from the gashes left by the sharp bone.

	`That fucking hurts,' she groaned, watching herself bleed.  After
a few seconds she put the wand in her pocket, grabbed her wrist firmly, and,
with a moan, got it to stop bleeding.

	`Bleeding as badly, anyway,' she muttered, watching the shiny red blood
drip, `This is going to hurt soon, I'm sure,' she said, walking back over to
Harry, `Tourniquet, tourniquet, yes, a tourniquet would be good.'

	She dripped on him a moment, and he blinked back up at her, uncertain
as to how he should respond, `Don't worry, Harry, I'll be fine.  Well, if they
don't throw me in jail for this, of course.  Tourniquet.  Belt, cravat,
something wide, don't use bootlaces,' she muttered to herself, first aid
classes flowing from her mouth as she stared dumbly at the scene, `Someone
should have shown up by now,' she winced as her endophine high slipped a bit.

	Harry was starting to look scared, so she turned to Nott, kicked him
in the balls to make sure he wasn't going to cause trouble, then shoved his
robe up with her foot.  He had a belt.

	Absurdly pleased, Wren dropped to her knees, using his belly for
padding, and fumbled with his belt, getting it off after only a few seconds.
It took her an uncomfortably long time to get the belt wrapped back around her
arm, but she figured the puddle of blood could not be more than a pint or two.

	She knelt there for a little while, long enough for Harry to walk up
to her, watching the blood seep, dripping slowly down the belt.  Harry looked
up into her face, grabbing her hand, `Want Mama.'

	`I'd like your mama, too, kid,' Wren told him, `She could get me to
the hospital.'

	`Hospital?'

	`Hospital.  They'd fix my hand,' she looked at her bleeding stump,
suppressed the sudden pain-inspired urge to giggle, `Or at least bandage the
stump,' she forced herself to her feet, rocking back and up, then swaying,
everything going a little grey, well, black, really, but . . .

	`Oh, there's my hand.  Let's go pick it up, put it in my pocket, and
call Mu-,' she shook her head, staggering a little as she led the boy over to
the flattened shape, `Muriel, Um, Zeller, that nice woman from the office this
morning.  She's a witch, maybe they can put my hand back on,' she shivered,
`And put some blood back in me,' she smiled at Harry, `You can keep what
you've got on you, that's fine, but I need my hand for a moment.'

	Harry shook his head and held on when she tried to free her left hand
from his.

	`I need that,' she pointed at her right hand with her chin, `and we
need to call for help, since the cops still aren't here.'

	Harry, reluctantly, let go of her hand, and she picked the cold one up
off the street, and her clipit.  The hand went into her cargo-pocket, and the
clipit was closed and dumped in her hip pocket.

	She held her hand out to Harry again, `Let's go make a phone call.  If
I pass out, don't go anywhere, OK?'

	`OK,' Harry answered.

	She nodded, satisfied by this answer, and led him into the phone
booth.

	She remembered looking up the phone number, and the awkwardness of
trying to dial and hold the phone one handed, but after that all she
remembered was waking up in a warm, dry bed, with Harry, Muriel, and a short,
which, for Wren, was saying something, brown-haired woman watching over her.

	`Wow, it doesn't hurt,' she enthused, clapping her hands in delight.
She blinked, wiggled her fingers to watch them move, `That was an odd dream.'

	`It wasn't,' Muriel told her, `You killed two Death Eaters, put a
tourniquet on yourself, and called me for a rescue.  We, and the Aurors, are
very impressed.'

	`I really would have prefered not to.  I mean, I jumped into Panama,
spent months in the fucking gulf, and managed not to see anyone I'd killed or
what my insides look like, and it's not even the second month of my vacation
yet.'

	`You only killed one of them,' the short woman said, `You're damned
near a squib, according to the healers, and Nott was hit with the Killing
Curse-'

	`That's the one that sounds like abra kadabra?'

	Muriel flinched.

	`Yes,' the other woman answered, `And a very strong one at that.  Even
Fudge's pet, Umbridge, couldn't pin it on you.  Didn't stop her from trying,
anyway.'

	`Oh.  What's the reducto one?'

	`A blasting hex-'

	`Ah.  I'd kinda wondered what it felt like to get hit by an HE round.
Guess I know now,' she laughed, `How'd they put it back on?'

	`Magic,' Muriel shrugged, `I'm not a mediwitch, so I don't know the
details, but they linked up the parts you had and grew the bits that weren't
there.  They'll be a bit pinker than the rest for a few days, then it should
be good as new.'

	Wren pulled her sleeve down, `Could they dye the skin?  Like a tatoo,
so as to remind me not to do it again?  Just the new stuff?'

	Muriel looked at the other woman, and Harry has slumped on Wren's
belly, quite asleep.  He stirred as Wren's stomach grumbled.

	`What's the food like here, and when can I get out?'

	-x-

	`Oh,' Wren looked up from her curry, several hours later, and winced,
`I never did ask your name,' she told the brown-haired woman.

	`It's Elizabeth, actually,' she smiled, `I'm Muriel's wife.' 

	A crooked grin broke out on Wren's face, `That's kinda awesome.  Mine,
as you've probably figured out by now, is Wren, and I'm quite pleased to meet
you.'

	She was distracted a moment as Harry made a surprised face after
tasting her vegitable vindaloo, `Hot, isn't it?'

	Harry nodded.

	`I quite like it, how about you?'

	Harry pondered a moment, then said, `Good,' gripping his spoon firmly.

	`I'm glad you like it,' she smiled at him, then turned to Muriel and
Elizabeth, `Now, I need some answers.  I've only managed some minor ritual
magic in my life, so,' she shrugged, `I have no fucking clue what's going on.
What are death eaters, why do they want Harry, how did they find us, what's a
squib, I hope my treatment's covered by NHS, but.'

	Elizabeth and Muriel shared a glance, then Elizabeth started to
explain, `I'm an Auror, that's like a muggle policeman,'

	Wren nodded at the appropriate places, and eventually got an idea of
what was going on, `So you've had a terrorist organization running rampant for
better than ten years, an organization that marks its members in a magically
identifiable manner, and the head of that organization just offed himself
trying to get Harry three days ago?  Why?  Why were his folks hiding?  What
the fuck!'

	Elizabeth snorted, `Exactly.  There's reasons most of the muggle-born
or muggle-raised kids end up outside the wizarding world sooner rather than
later.  There's this bunch of codgers who grew up before the first world war
running things, and they wonder why nothing changes.'

	`And they were tought by people who grew up before the bloody
revolutionary war.  The world has changed a lot since then, and they don't
believe it,' Muriel snorted, suddenly, `And my parents,' she shook her head,
`I think my grandmother's a witch, but both my parents were involved in the
Manhattan Project,' she conjured a metalic sphere the size of a softball,
`Trigger designate,' she tapped it with her wand, `Trigger arm,' she tapped it
again.

	Wren's eyes got even bigger as she watched.

	`Trigger detonate,' she tapped it a third time, and it glowed a bright
white as it, almost silently, imploded.  It fell to the tabletop with a dull
*thump* and deformed slightly, quickly fading to a normal white-hot, then red,
the formica tabletop scorched and flaming under it, `I developed that spell in
school.  It took me a long time to figure out how to conjure weapons-grade,
but _that_ is the kind of power we've got, and people waste it in little
fights between factions of a faction.  We've got less than thirty thousand
wizarding world people in Britain.  I don't have any idea how many people have
been forced out, or how prevalent magic is, but,' she vanished the now dull
grey spheroid, `Repairo!' she told the table top, leaving no sign of the
damage but a smell of smoke.

	`Wow,' Wren stared at the tabletop, `That's awesome, too,' she chased
the last of her curry into a corner, then spooned it up.  Dropping her spoon
she looked at the two of them, `I need to get a handle on this,' she made a
sweeping gesture, `Mess, if I'm going to keep Harry safe.  I don't suppose the
wizarding world knows about public libraries?'

	Both of them shook their heads before Muriel answered, `Too fucking
new.  The closest thing is the school library at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's
horrible about letting non-students have access.'

	`Dumbledore?  Tall, skinny guy with a beard that's as long as I am
tall?'

	`That's him.'

	`He's the one who left Harry on that doorstep.'

	`Well, then that's out until after this legal mess is over,' Elizabeth
said, `You'll need a solicitor, but under the code you're entitled to
everything those two death eaters owned, and Harry's yours by right, since he
was abandoned, and you've shed blood to protect him.  I think I know someone
who'll be willing, if you'd like me to contact him?'

	`Please, I'd have no idea where to find a wizarding solicitor,' Wren
checks the time, then looks at her other wrist, `but I know where I can find a
tatoo place, at least, so I'll see you in the morning?'

	`Let us walk you home, OK?' Muriel asked, after a glance at her wife.

	`It'll take them a bit, even if I just get an outline and stiple.'

	`Please?' Elizabeth asked.

	Wren nodded, pushed her glasses up her nose, and gathered Harry,
still, she noticed, in a clean diaper, onto her left hip.

3 November 1992

	`Thank you again,' Wren said, `And sorry for keeping you out so late.'

	`Call us in the morning, and we'll come pick you up,' Elizabeth said,
then yawned, `At least Muriel doesn't have to work tomorrow, and I've only a
half-shift.'

	`I will, then.  Thank you.'

	Once they had gone, Wren tucked the sleeping child into her bed, and
collapsed next to him, burying her face in her pillow with a whimper.  What
she wanted, really, was to crawl into someone's lap and be cuddled and
cosseted, but she'd wanted that for years, so it sure was not likely to happen
any time soon.

	She curled into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest for a few
minutes, but that was almost worse, so she gave up on that.

	`I've got a bathtub,' she told the ceiling, then lay there for a
while.  A glance at her watch told her it was almost two, and she rolled off
the bed, both boots hitting the floor with the same *thump*.

	She shed them, and her pants, green wool socks, then sat, leaned back
against the bed, in her t-shirt and underwear.  A half-hearted glance at her
watch told her it was nearly three when she got to her feet again, and she
staggered to the bathroom.  She ran the hot water over her hand for a minute,
until it started to warm, then put in the plug.  T-shirt, bra, the little
stocking-bags of birdseed, the padded shorts, the gaff, all fell to the
floor, and she kicked them into a pile a bit further from the tub.

	She glanced at herself in the mirror, and barely supressed the sudden
flush of rage, placing her spread fingers gently against it, rather than
shattering it with her fist.  The form in the mirror isn't bad, she told
herself, just wrong.  It was slim, and strong, and, as always, male.  She
blinked, swallowed, blinked again.  She hadn't cried except when she was
feeling sorry for herself in longer than she cared to think about.

	She attacked the two-day long stubble viciously, pulling her face with
one hand and the safety razor with the other, perversely amused that everyone
who'd seen it assumed she had hag blood somewhere in her ancestry, and put it
down to that.  She bled from a couple spots when she finished, rubbed her face
to feel for rough spots, and smiled at her reflection, momentarily triumphant.

	The water was hot, almost scalding, and she twisted and wiggled,
trying to fit all of herself under it.  No success, knees, or feet, or
too-slender hip kept protruding, and she closed her eyes and pressed her
forehead to the bottom of the tub, her feet and ankles cold where they stuck
out of the water.

	Dried, dressed in gaff and t-shirt, and still inexplicably miserable,
she hid her head under her pillow and tried to sleep.

	-x-

	A triple *POP* woke her, and she sat up, taking in the three blurred
forms even as she lunged for the closest, closing her hand around his wand and
shoving it away even as the wand she did not remember picking up touched his
forehead.

	`Reducto!' she ordered, imaging his brains scrambling as the blasting
hex tore out from the region of his pituitary.

	She swooned, drained, even as the man dropped silently and hit the floor
with a carpet-muffled *thump*.

	The third figure crumpled, dropping its wand, and the second pointed
at her, `Avad-'

	Wren cut him off, stabbing her wand sharply into the center of his
throat with a tiny *crump*.  She fell off the bed after him as he dropped, and
she got her hand onto his chin to break her fall.  Something gave with a wet,
muffled *pop*, more like an uncooked chicken bone than a distant gunshot, and
the man stopped flailing at her.

	`No, no, no,' the last attacker whimpered in a surprisingly feminine
voice.  Harry gulped behind her, and started to cry.

	This, peculiarly, centered Wren greatly, and she gathered up all the
wands before she picked up Harry and settled him on her hip, bouncing gently to
calm him.  Wren held all four wands against Harry as she walked over to the
light switch and turned the lights on, revealing the two corpses and sobbing
dark-haired woman. The white mask was already on the floor in front of her, 
and she was struggling out of her robe, leaving her clad in what looked like a
nightgown.

	Harry calmed, gulping air even as he stopped sobbing, and twined his
hands firmly in Wren's shirt, leaking tears and snot.

	`I was starting to worry you didn't know how to cry, kid,' Wren told
him.

	Harry blinked up at her, still red-faced and puffy, and Wren ruffled
his hair, `Are you OK now?'

	`OK,' Harry nodded, sniffling.

	`Good.  Lets see if she can tell us what this is about, OK?'

	Harry nodded again, then pressed his face back to Wren's shirt.

	`Who are you?'

	`Bellatrix Lestra-' she cut herself off, wiped her face on the robe
she had shed, `Black, the Lestranges are all dead, so,' she shook her head,
`No, I still belong to you, I guess.  Honor, obey, support,' she threw back
her head and laughed, crying again.

	Wren sat on the end of her bed closest to Bellatrix, and looked at the
girl, she could not be more than twenty, `What the fuck do you mean by that?'

	`A pureblood girl's property as much as person, you know,' Bellatrix
smiled nastily, `And a married woman's less than that, once the marriage
contract's agreed on.'

	`Contract?  So you're something like an indentured servant, then?'
Wren asked, pulling her feet up underneath her, then settled Harry in her lap.

	`Something like that.  My family got something from their family, and
I got those two bastards, and their Dark Lord,' she turned her left arm to
show the faded skull and snake mark on the inside of her forearm.

	`I at least got a monthly salary, room, board, and training for six
years of my life,' Wren told her, `Why do people agree to it?'

	`Because,' she shrugged, `My middle sister didn't, and all that
happened to her was she got disowned.  Mum always made it out like it would be
something much worse than that.'

	`So it's an arrangement between families?'

	`Yes.'

	`Who's left?  A lot of your people have been killed in this little
altercation you've been having.'

	Bellatrix cocks her head to the side, `The Lestranges are all gone now.
Cissy's boy is the last Malfoy after yesterday, little Theo is the last Nott,
that's the one's you did for.  Crabbe, Goyle, and their boys, old man
Parkinson's dead, and his boy didn't join, Rookwood, Avery, Dolohov, and
Mulciber are still running around, but they don't have enough money or
influence to get married, so they're the end of their lines . . . ' she
trailed off.

	`I meant in your family, and theirs,' Wren gestured at the corpses.

	`The Blacks are almost gone, Regulus turned on the Dark Lord and was
killed, I think they,' she gestured at the corpses, `killed my parents, and
Regulus's father took a long walk off a short pier after Regulus was murdered.
Sirius is in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit,' she laughed, a harsh,
unamused sound.

	`Oh?  What was that?'

	`It was in the paper today, didn't you read it?  Pettigrew claimed he
was the Potter's secret-keeper, and blew up a bunch of muggles to fake his
death and frame my baby cousin.  Stupid little rat.'

	`When did this happen?'

	`Yesterday.'

	`And he's in Azkaban already?' Wren blinked, `And here I thought
Article 15s went quick.'

	`Oh, they skipped the trial, no need, they said, with all the
witnesses.'

	`Can you prove any of it?'

	`Pettigrew's a death eater, and I was there when he told the Dark Lord
where the Potters lived.  Can't prove he didn't kill all the muggles, but,'
she shrugged, `Nothing to be done about it now.'

	`We'll see about that,' Wren said, and pulled out the wands, `Which
one's yours?'

	`The one on the left,' Bellatrix said, `Why?'

	`I want an oath, on your magic, that you won't harm me, or Harry,
except in reasonable self-defence.'

	`You'll leave me a loophole that big?  I could throw a muggle lorry
through that.'

	`I want your oath, kid, then you get your wand back.'

	Bellatrix blinked, then nodded, `I swear, on my magic, that I will not
harm you or yours or Harry, except in reasonable self-defence.'

	A ripple shivered through the room, headed out into the world, and
Wren smiled.

	Bellatrix shivered, blinking, and dazedly accepted her wand back.
Wren walked into the bathroom, set Harry on the closed seat of the commode,
and pulled on shorts and bra.  She hefted the little nylon bags of seed,
frowned, then tucked them into her cups and pulled her shirt back on.

	Bellatrix, she found, was magicking at the mark on her arm,
`SCOURGIFY!' she said, quietly but intensely, her skin peeling off in bloody
flakes without disturbing the mark perceptably.

	`Stop,' Wren said.  She set Harry down, then pulled her pants on,
noticing, for the first time, that the left cargo pocket is still stiff and
stained with her blood.

	`I want it off.  They're dead, I don't have to support them anymore,
and I won't.  I can't.  They were going to go after Alice,' she turned to
Wren, frantic, `I don't like Frank, but that,' she raised her wand again,
`SCOURGIFY!' she yelled.  The spell tore a pit in her arm, and it bled freely,
the mark dark and malevolent on the shiny surface.

	`Well, you can tell me about Alice later, but we've got two bodies to
play with first,' Wren said, `Then if we need to we can go back to ripping
holes in your arm.  I'd prefer if you didn't do that over the carpet, anyway,
I've got a two hundred quid damage deposit on this place.'

	`Oh,' Bellatrix muttered `scourgify,' pointing her wand at the carpet.
the blood vanished, `Better?' she asked.

	`Good enough,' Wren flicked the Clipit open and cut the one with the
broken neck's left sleeve open, exposing the mark, `The traditional methods
for removing tatoos are covering them,'

	`Won't work,' Bellatrix said, `He'd still be able to call us, it would
still be there.'

	`Yep.  Flaying,' Wren cut into the man's arm, slashed deeply into the
cooling flesh along three sides of the mark, then peeled his skin back.  The
mark stayed, separating from his skin as it was pulled away from his arm,
`Which doesn't seem to work either, and dismemberment.'

	Bellatrix mutters a word, and the arm dropped free in Wren's hands.
The mark stayed on the arm, not floating in the air where the arm had been.

	`That seems to work, but I'd think we'd want to cut closer to the
mark, below the elbow, if we could-'

	Bellatrix's slash with her wand cut Wren off, and a strong jet of
arterial blood follows her forearm to the floor.

	`Fuck!'  Wren yelled, standing up and pressing herself to Bellatrix
before she wrapped both hands around her upper arm, pressed hard against her
brachial artery, and stopped the worst of the bleeding.

	`Feel for your pulse, right where my thumbs are,' she ordered
Bellatrix.

	Bellatrix blinked down at the short woman, then obeyed.  Wren checked
the corpse at their feet for a belt, then slashed a length of black wool robe
free, and wrapped it around Bellatrix's upper arm, since the stump end wasn't
long enough to fit a tourniquet between the joint and the wound.  Tied tight,
it only took three twists of the wand she shoved through the knot to make the
bright red bleeding stop, and she tied the wand to keep it from turning.

	`Good,' Wren said, watching as Bellatrix let go, to see if she needed
to tighten the tourniquet once manual pressure was released.

	`We had another corpse to test it on,' Wren said, once she was
reasonably sure that the girl wasn't going to bleed to death, `And I'da liked
to have the tourniquet ready.'

	`I didn't even think of that, I just wanted that dreadful thing off,'
Bellatrix whimpered, then fell on her ass.

	`Cut below the mark, too, it might save time at St. Mungo's.'

	`What?'

	`Not having to regrow all the delicate structures of your hand and
wrist, kid.'

	`Oh, right,' she said, then severed her hand and wrist from the
forearm on the floor.  She swayed and looked very woozy.  Wren picked up the
hand and put it in her cargo pocket.

	Wren looked at Harry, wide-eyed on the bed, Bellatrix, nearly passed
out on the floor, and around her flat, which didn't have a telephone, because
she was not going to be in Britain long enough to bother, `I guess I need to
get a phone,' she said, and tucked the wands in her pocket, clipped the Clipit
back in place, then gathered Harry onto her right hip and looked down at
Bellatrix, `Up, we've got a three block walk to the phonebooth.'

	Bellatrix blinked up at her, then raised her stump, giggled, then
raised her right hand.

	Wren pulled her to her feet, and ducked under the arm to support her
out the door.  Somehow she got the door locked, all three of them down the
stairs, into the grey, foggy pre-dawn London morning, and to the phone booth.

	`Hello?  Do you know what time it is?  And what time we got in last
night?' Wren thought the irate voice on the phone was Elizabeth.

	`Yeah, and it took me almost four hours to get to sleep, and fucking
death eaters woke me up at five fucking thirty,' Wren answered, `I've got two
dead ones on the floor, and a defector who needs a lift to St. Mungo's.'

	`What?  Why?'

	`She cut her arm off to remove the mark-'

	`Where are you?'

	`Same place as yesterday-'

	*POP* `*click*' *POP*

	Two women barely more dressed than Bellatrix appeared before Wren
realized the phone had been hung up on the other end.  Elizabeth gathered Wren
into a hug even as she hung up the phone, and Muriel picked up Bellatrix.  A
moment later they appeared in the lobby, in front of the admission's witch.

	Wren blinked at the posters, blurred to illegibility, then the less
blurry face in front of her, and smiled down at Harry, `Forgot my glasses, I
see.'

4 November 1992

	`Sorry,' Wren smiled, `I get manic when I don't sleep, sometimes.'

	The mediwitch blinked at her, wondering how Wren's brooding stare
counted as "manic" but decided not to ask.

	`How much longer will it be?' Wren poked at Bellatrix's arm, `This is
taking longer than it did for me, and I've a solicitor I need to talk to.'

	`You were unconscious for about five hours yesterday.'

	`Oh, I thought I was misremembering it,' she turned to Muriel,
Elizabeth had already left to bring the Aurors and pick up the dead bodies in
her flat, `Could you call the solicitor?  I don't want to leave her here, and
bring me the papers for the last couple of days, if you could?'

	Muriel smiled at her, `Elizabeth said she'd send Mister Howe here.
I'll go check the lobby for the paper, though.'

	`She'll just need to sit for a bit, I've got a stack of them,' the
mediwitch says, `You did a good job with the tourniquet, I must say.  I don't
know many witches who'd risk a wand like that, though.'

	`I don't much like that one,' Wren shrugged, `It seemed pissed off
about something.  Malfoy's wand is much more,' she trailed off, `Accomodating,
I guess would be the word.'

	`Oh, that would make sense, this was Nott's wand, then?'

	`Yep.'

	Wren petted the sleeping boy in her lap for a bit, then accepted the
stack of newspapers, `What's your name, again?  I've spent so much time in the
Army I've sorta forgotten that people don't come with nametags in the real
world.'

	`I'm Gwenog Malvo,' the old woman smiled, `but you can just call me
Gwen, everyone with any sense does.'

	`Why's that?'

	`'Cause my family disowned me about ninety years ago, and I'm the only
one left,' she laughed, `and my daughters, anyway.'

	`Why would Malfoy's wand be more accomodating than Notts?  They're
both dead,' Wren paused a moment, `And have you got any grandkids?'

	`A few,' Gwen smiled, pulling a small bag out of her pocket, expanding
it, and rifling through it as she spoke, `And the wand chooses the user.
They'll often switch allegiance if their owner is defeated or they're stolen,'
she pulled a massive photo album out of her bag, and flopped it down.
Bellatrix and Wren both leaned in to look, and Muriel walked around behind
Wren to look over her shoulder.

	-x-

	`What was that about?' Bellatrix asked, once Gwen had left, after
being introduced to Elizabeth and the solicitor.

	`It's always good to have a medic on your side, and just about
everyone wants to talk up their grandkids,' Wren smiled at her, `If they've
got them, anyway.'

	`How very Slytherin of you,' Bellatrix smiled.

	`What does that mean?'

	One explanation of Hogwarts and the house system later, Wren frowned,
thinking, `Well, I am very ambitious.  I want to live in a world where I don't
have to worry about my government, random terrorists, or evil wizards,' she
laughed, `and I think that's sick, that that counts as ambitious.'

	`Well, I can help with your ambition, I'm pretty sure,' Mister Howe
said, `The last forty years have not been kind to the old pureblood families,
and the attacks of the last few days,' he shook his head, `If they had
challenged for a formal duel, they could have limited the stakes, but as it
is, you're entitled to everything they owned, and, while not required, you're
expected to look after their obligations.'

	`What are those?' Wren asked.

	`No way of telling until after the hearings,' he said, `But even
without access to most of the Potter money, you'll be one of the richest
people in Britain from any one of them.'

	`Rudolphus Lestrange's vault has over three million Galeons in it.
That was his school money.  The family vault is even larger,' Bellatrix said,
`It will be a hassle to get the protective charms reset, but once that
occurs,' she shrugged.

	`Good.  Do you have access to his vault?' Wren asked, `I want to get
your cousin out if he's innocent, and thirty million U.S. should be quite
enough for that,' she turned back to Howe, `In fact, how many prisoners are
there in Azkaban?'

	`Over two hundred.'

	`Can we afford to get them all new trials?'

	`Probably,' Howe thought a moment, `Almost certainly.  Most of them
will be quite insane after spending so much time around the dementors.'

	One explanation about dementors later, `I want the island empty, it
sounds the perfect spot to test Muriel's experiment,' Wren smiled,
`Particularly if they've been backing Runs-From-Death.'

	Bellatrix broke out into gasping laughter almost instantly, but the
rest took a bit longer.  Harry woke, looked around, and started to cry.

	`Hungry, kid?' Wren asked him.

	He nodded, gulped, and pressed his face to Wren's belly.

	`So'm I, so if Trixie's ready to go,' a smirk flickered in Wren's eyes
at the new nickname, then died as Bellatrix started crying, `If you don't like
that name I won't use it.'

	Bellatrix smiled at the quick retraction, `It's cute, that's all.
Sorry.' 

	`Oh, and I want a forty-five, or even one of the awful Beretta nine
mils.  I'd prefer it to be above-board, but if I need to bribe someone,' Wren
shrugged.

	`Normal people in Britain would have a hard time managing that,'
Muriel told her, `But I don't think it will be too difficult.'

	`I'll need to talk to Section Nine,' Elizabeth nodded, `but it
shouldn't take more than a couple days to get you on the rolls.'

	`Section Nine?'

	`They're part of Scotland Yard, and deal with magical things.  After
the recent trouble they'll cover you.'

	`OK, let's go find Gwen, then feed the kids,' Wren picked up the pile
of unread newspapers and Harry.

	-x-

	Over, sadly, army-grade pizza, Wren continued to quiz Mister Howe,
Edmund, it eventually came out, and Elizabeth about "The War".

	`Look,' Wren eventually said, `I just don't grasp the scale of this,'
she slapped the paper, `The only magical school in the country has a total of
less than six hundred students.  My graduating class in high school had more
people than that.  The death toll in Panama was higher than the entire
reported casualties of your war, and we killed over ten thousand Iraqis last
year.  This isn't,' she shook her head and changed the subject, `Who the fuck
gave them Harry's description?  Why the fuck do they have _mine_?  What kind
of idiot publishes the _victim's_ flat address?'

	`The Daily Profit,' Muriel shook her head, `I noticed a correlation
between people showing up in the paper and showing up dead, but-'

	`Bagnold's all "freedom of the press," despite the fact that all we
want is reasonable caution,' Elizabeth said, `They're the only wizarding daily
left, so it's hard to put external pressure on them.'

	`What're they worth?' Wren turned to Bellatrix, `Could Trixie buy
them?'

	Edmund blinked, `They've a circulation of about two thousand, at five
knuts a paper, maybe one knut profit, that'd be four galleons a day profit on
revenue of twenty galleons a day, so about 1400 galleons a year profit on
revenue of about seven thousand galleons a year.'

	`I would say that means "almost certainly,"' Bellatrix smiled, `That's
about enough profit to keep a pretty girl, too.'

	`So you like pretty girls, too?' Wren asked.

	`Of course,' Bellatrix smiled, looking around the table, `Doesn't
everyone?'

	`Most muggles prefer the opposite sex,' Muriel said.

	`Eww,' Edmund and Bellatrix said at the same time, then looked at each
other.

	`So most wizards like boys?' Wren asked, leaning back in her chair.

	`Not most, no,' Elizabeth answered, `It seems to be about sixty-forty,
actually.  Witches have a much easier, well, maybe not easier, but less
dangerous, time with childbirth, but wizards have a much higher birthrate than
muggle males, so it doesn't just collapse.'

	`That's sixty percent bi, and forty pretty much exclusive one way or
the other,' Muriel elaborated, `Which is pretty close to the muggle numbers,
actually,' she shrugged, `but there's more history, or acknowledged history,
of queer wizards and witches.  The last witch-king of England, Elizabeth the
First, had a witch consort and six girls by her.'

	`Wow,' Wren suddenly laughed, `I always liked her.'

	-x-

	`I want a tatoo too,' Bellatrix said, suddenly, after lunch, `Like
yours, marking what you lost,' she touched the new, hairless, pink skin of her
left forearm.

	`That'll be kinda big,' Wren said, not quite discouraging.

	`I don't want to forget,' Bellatrix said, `I've been a bit kinked all
my life, but I think doing that to Alice would have broken me.' 

	`So,' Wren shook her head, `Let me know later, but for now,' she
shrugged, `I can offer you a place at my flat until we get the legalities
settled, Trixie.'

	`Thank you,' Bellatrix said, then held out a hand, `Show us to the
tatoo shop?'

	`Come along, then, pretty girl,' Wren took her hand, and led off.

	Harry leaned out to smile at Bellatrix, and Wren had to shift her grip
in order not to drop him.

	Bellatrix put up with nearly an hour of prickly buzzing.  She admired
the simple bandage on her wrist outside the shop, `We'll match for a couple
days, then,' she smiled before she threaded the fingers of her left hand into
Wren's right.

	Wren twitched, stopped, turned her gaze on Bellatrix before dropping
it to their joined hands.  She kept her gaze downcast, and blinked rapidly for
several seconds before she regained her composure.

	Muriel and Elizabeth exchanged a glance.

	Bellatrix clenched the short woman's hand tightly in hers, then
brought it up and kissed her knuckles lightly.

	-x-

	Wren stood and stared at the unstained brownish carpet, and didn't
move until Harry started to wiggle, then set him down, and collapsed to sit
cross-legged in the middle of floor.  Bellatrix dithered behind her, then sat
on the bed, watching with her as Harry climbed up next to her.

	She blinked when Harry smiled up at her, and didn't move when he
crawled into her lap and fell quite suddenly asleep.

	Wren smiled tiredly, then flopped over on her back, `Lucky kid,' she
said, `I'm never going to get the blood out of these bottoms, so I guess
they'll get a black dye bath in a bit,' she yawned, brought her hand up to
cover her mouth as she finished, then dropped it back, *thump* onto the floor,
`Gotta get groceries, Harry'll need a bath eventually, I've got no clue about
those self-cleaning diapers, how many kids are there in wizarding Britain, how
many are his age, how fucking many death eaters are there,' she rambled,
paused to yawn again.

	`Come up here,' Bellatrix said, `Sleep, I'll sit watch.'

	Wren rolled over, then pushed herself up onto her knees, `Is there a
way to keep people from popping in like that?'  She looked over to find that
Bellatrix had scooted back against the headboard.

	`Yes, but it's expensive.'

	Wren staggered over to the bed and crawled onto it, `That's fine.
How long does it take?'

	`A day or two, I think.'

	`Tomorrow, then.  If anyone attacks, kill them and wake me up.'

	`As you command,' Bellatrix smiled.

	`Good night, Trixie,' Wren said, smiling.  She buried her face deeper
into her pillow, then pretended to sleep for several minutes before she
actually was.

	After Bellatrix was sure she was asleep she turned, and petted Wren's
hair softly, `Thank you.'

	-x-

	Wren woke, realized that it was still light out and Harry had cuddled
up to her side, and seriously contemplated not getting up for a while.

	`What do you want for dinner?' Bellatrix asked.

	Wren realized the extremely pleasant sensation was having her hair
stroked, and whimpered, pulling away, `Whatever.  I'll get up and cook in a
bit.'

	`Stay down, I think I can manage "whatever," it sounds simple enough.'

	Wren half-giggled, smiled vaguely in Bellatrix's direction, `Don't
burn down the building, and try not to smoke up my kitchen.'  She listened to
the muffled noise from the kitchen and cuddled about Harry, absurdly happy.
"This is damned nice," she thought, and drifted in between sleep and
wakefulness until Bellatrix called her in for dinner.

5 November 1992

	`So your sister's late husband had,' Wren looked at the face the
wrought-iron gate had formed, `questionable taste?'

	`Oh, that was his father,' Bellatrix answered, leading the way, `The
peacocks, however,' she gestured at the large white bird.

	`Yeah, they're kinda tacky, too,' Wren agreed, maintaining a firm grip
on Harry, who wanted down so he could explore. 

	`Dobby!' Bellatrix yelled.

	`You called, Missy Bellatrix?' a tiny humanoid appeared almost
soundlessly at their feet.

	Wren dropped to her knees, smiling, and set Harry down, `Hello,' she
said, `This is Harry.'

	Harry nodded, blinking up and smiling.

	Great, wide, protruberant eyes stared at her, then turned to
Bellatrix.

	Bellatrix smiled at him, `She offed Rudolphus.  She's a good witch.
You should obey her before me.' 

	He turned back to Wren, `Tell me how I may serve,' he bowed.

	`As you wish,' Wren nodded back at him, held out her hand, `I'm Wren.'

	Wide, frightened eyes turn to Bellatrix, who nodded, `She won't hurt
you.  Take her hand.'

	He did, cupping it to bring to his lips.

	She shook her head, `No, like this,' and shook his hand, `and tell me
what you would have me call you.'

	`I am Dobby.'

	`Guard your Name better than that, Dobby,' she looked at the costume
he is wearing, `I like your clothes, they're cute,' she told him.

	`Dobby doesn't wear clothes!  He's a good elf!' Dobby proclaimed
firmly.

	`Oh?  Is it cloth?'

	A nod.

	`And you wear it?'

	`But if an elf is given clothes he is a bad elf, a freed elf.'

	`Did you take it, or did they give it to you?'

	`They told me I could . . . ' Tears flood from his eyes and he starts
to wail, banging his head on the ground.

	Wren gathered him into her arms, and held the thrashing form in her
lap as she sank off her heels, `Stop that.'

	He stopped thrashing, but continued to sob, `So you need to look for a
job, it's not that bad, is it?'

	`A freed elf doesn't tend to live very long,' Bellatrix said, `They
die rather miserable deaths, generally.'

	`That's no good,' Wren said, `How much does an elf make?'

	`House elves are kept, and passed down in families,' Bellatrix
answered.

	`Chattel slaves?'  Wren shook her head, `Room, board, and a quid a
week to start, for you and your children, on thirty days notice,' she offered
Dobby.

	`Notice?'

	`If you want to leave, or I can't keep you, won't keep you, whatever,
we have to tell the other thirty days before.'

	`What is a quid?' Dobby asked.

	`A pound, muggle money, about a sickle,' Bellatrix answered when Wren
looked to her.

	Dobby shook his head, his ears flopping, `Too much.'

	`Room, board, clothes of my choice, and two quid a week.' Wren
counter-offered, smiling.

	`Room, board, and a quid a months.'

	`Room, board, clothes, and six quid a month.'

	`Room, board, clothes, and three quid a month.'

	`Room, board, clothes, and five quid a month.'

	`Room, board, clothes, and four quid,' a tiny smile twitched Dobby's
lips as he tried to change the contract.

	`Room, board, clothes, and four quid a month,' Wren held out her hand,
`Shake on it?'

	Dobby nodded, and shook, `Room, board, clothes, and four quid a
month,' he pouted.

	Wren pulled out her wallet and pulled out a twenty pound note, `Here
you go, for this month and the next four.'

	Dobby stared at it, and started crying again, `Wren is a great witch,'
he managed.  It was several minutes before he calmed enough to accept the
note.

	`Now that you're done stealing my house-elf,' a tall blonde woman
looked down at them, a tiny boy staring at them from her arms, `Who are you?'

	`Oh,' Wren stood up, then took the three steps to catch Harry, who had
decided to investigate the other small human.  She settled his unhappy form on
her hip, then held out her hand, `Wren Xom, and you?'

	`Narcissa Malfoy, unless you change that,' she looked Wren up and
down, `Don't look like much, do you?'

	`Never have,' Wren shrugged, `But I make up for my lack of stature and
beauty with a whole lotta mean.'

	`You'll need it, Tibbles has issued a formal challenge to keep me.
Come along,' she turned and walked into the house.

	`Tibbles?'

	`Lucy's older brother,' Bellatrix said, `Another Death Eater.'

	`Oh, fun,' Wren followed Narcissa into the house.

	-x-

	Dobby was watching Harry and Draco chase each other around, high
pitched shrieks marking their activities.

	Wren was sitting on her hands, her cup of tea cooling in front of her,
as Bellatrix and Narcissa sat very close together.  Their touching was a
little more friendly than she expected.  Wren watched, smiled, shook her head,
and tried to banish the thought.

	`So, what do you want?' Wren asked, glad some things had been
explained.  She had copies of the contracts in her cargo pocket, and was not
looking forward to reading them, `I don't want to hear what you think I want
to hear.  What, pie in the sky, no limit, best of everything, do you want?'

	Bellatrix looked to her sister, who looked back, then nodded.  She
turned to Wren, `Older sibs are supposed to resent their younger ones, but I
always thought both of them were adorable, from when I was very small.  When
Cissy was six she told me she wanted to marry me when she grew up,' she
shrugged, looking down at her knees, `So I want to be near her, so I can look
out for her.'

	`Until she married,' Narcissa shook her head, `She's always been the
most important person in my life, and I love her more than anyone else other
than Draco, and that's really close a lot of the time.'

	Wren closed her eyes and put her head in her hands, elbows on her
knees, whimpered, then spoke without looking up, `I suppose that's what you
meant by kinked?'

	`Yes,' Bellatrix said in a small voice.

	`I'll do my damnedest, then,' Wren said, still not looking up, `But it
would be best if most of your children had four grandparents.  At least four
grandparents.  Who aren't related to each other would be nice.'

	Bellatrix turned a gobsmacked expresion to face Narcissa's matching
one, then surrendered to the hug her little sister dragged her into.  She
mumbled something into Narcissa's breast.

	`What was that?' Wren asked, slumping back into her chair.  She smiled
at the sight, then shook her head and picked up her cup of tea.

	`I've got most of a year left on the seven-year contraceptive potion I
took before my last year of school,' Bellatrix said a bit more clearly, `So I
won't have to worry about that for a few months.'

	`Draco's been weaned for months,' Narcissa said, `If you're
interested?' she asked Wren.

	Wren blinked, and whimpered, and squirmed in her seat, `I hardly know
you,' she smiled, `But thank you for the lovely offer.'

	`You killed four death eaters in two days.  You saved my sister and
gave her back to me.  I want to, please,' Narcissa locked her blue eyes on
Wren's.

	`No, but thank you,' Wren shook her head.

	Narcissa got up and walked over in front of Wren, who was looking
away.  She dropped a hand on the chair arm and used the other to pull Wren's
face up.  Wren stared wide-eyed as Narcissa leaned in, and let them sag closed
as she kissed her.

	Hot tears were dripping down Wren's face when Narcissa pulled back,
and she whimpered, pawing at them with the backs of her hands.

	`I'm sorry,' Narcissa said, distraught, hovering, `I didn't mean to
make you cry, that was horrible-'

	`Was nice,' Wren shook her head, putting her hands on Narcissa's
arms before gathering her very gently into a hug, `I liked it, but don't.  Not
'cause I'm available, not 'cause you feel obligated, and definately,' she
rubbed her hand over Narcissa's back, `definately not from pity.'

	 `Got some high standards, then?' Narcissa joked softly.

	`I'm thirty-fucking-two, kid,' Wren said, `You're what, eighteen?' she
asked, even though she thought she looked more like a young sixteen.

	`Twenty-one,' Narcissa said primly, `Barely, but still.'

	`So you're twenty-four?' Wren asked Bellatrix.

	`Almost,' Bellatrix answered, then pushed her way into the hug.

	`Your breasts rustle,' Narcissa said, rubbing her face on Wren's
chest.

	`Birdseed falsies.  I'm really flat-chested.'

	`We'll get you some better ones, then,' she said, `Unless you'd prefer
a breast-enlargement potion?  It only takes a few doses to figure out how much
you need-'

	`So that was why your roommates were always complaining about you
stealing their bras?' Bellatrix smirked at her sister, then kissed her on the
forehead.

	Wren closed her eyes, and held them close, `If I've waited this long
for the right girl, I can keep waiting.  I'll accept pity-cuddles and
obligation-cuddles, and available-cuddles, but only kiss me if you want to.'

	Bellatrix pulled back, then leaned in and kissed Wren once she had
opened her eyes.

	Wren pulled her close and cried.

	-x-

	Wren walked the shelves of the Malfoy library, thick books of
parchment, thin books of bible-leaf, shelved something close to randomly,
without even the chaos of a Dewey Decimal system . . . but that is from the
1880s, or something like that.  LC is even more recent.  Half the books do not
even have titles on the spines.  The library is tiny, eight bookcases eight
feet tall and fifteen feet long, with six shelves on each side.

	Momentarily defeated, she turned back to Narcissa and Bellatrix, who
each had a sleeping child on her shoulder, `I want history books, and theory,
and law, user-level law, not solicitor-level.'

	`I'll find you a couple,' Narcissa nodded.

	-x-

	Wren returned to Narcissa's room from utilizing the latrine.

	Narcissa gestured her over, a little flushed, her eyes dark and
smiling, her legs crossed and one foot swinging rhythmically.

	Wren glanced at Bellatrix, who was apparently engaged in a game of
pat-a-cake with the two boys, then walked over to the fidgeting blonde.

	`May I kiss you?' Narcissa asked, then placed her hands on Wren's
cheeks as she waited for the answer, her breath a little hard, a little rough.

	`Yes,' Wren answered, a little entranced by the girl's face, the way
her eyes glowed, her soft lips and flushed cheeks.

	Narcissa's hands slipped up into Wren's hair, and pulled her close,
thumbs stroking her cheeks as their lips met.  Wren's lips parted easily, even
eagerly, accepting the girl's tongue, glorying in the feeling.

	Wren whimpered when Narcissa stiffened, clutched her close even as she
broke the kiss, hot breath gasping over her cheek, a gentler version of the
same weakness she felt the day before making her close her eyes and slump into
the girl's lap.  Narcissa relaxed, trailing gentle kisses over Wren's face and
down her throat.

	`Thank you,' Narcissa said, cuddled Wren close, kissed her brow.

	`What was that?' Wren asked.

	`Shh,' she nuzzled Wren's face up, then kissed her, `It's nothing to
worry about.'

	Wren drew herself up into the tightest ball she could, trying to fit
herself into Narcissa's lap, and barely failed.  For the first time in as long
as she could remember, she fell asleep being cuddled.

	-x-

	To her intense mortification, Wren woke, stripped to t-shirt and gaff,
to the soft sounds of the two girls trying to make love quietly, and only
barely failing.  A soft brush of smooth calf made her eyes snap open as she
realized that they were under the covers with her, and a glance to the other
side showed the sleeping boys cuddled against each other and her.

	She watched the dark ceiling long after the girls fell asleep, one
hand on Lucius's wand under her pillow.

6 November 1992

	Wren dropped under the water, and blew bubbles for a moment before
surfacing.  The bath Dobby led her to was much larger than the tub at her
flat, and she could fit all of herself under the water.  The water was hot,
too hot for annoying parts to be annoying.  She watched the swirling steam and
white ceiling while she thought.  It wasn't like she'd fallen into a porn
video . . . well, not much, even if last night did end up with two pretty
sisters having sex.  With a guy in the bed.  Her breath caught, and she shook
her head violently, splashing, as tears tried to form.  She wanted to hit
something, but settled for dunking her head under again, and blowing out as
much air as she could.  She stayed under, eyes closed, until she started
getting desperate, then a few seconds longer.  She sat up, shook her head,
opened her eyes, then took a breath.  She gasped and panted for a moment, then
twisted and set her chin on the edge, looking towards the door.

	Well, that was a fat lot of help.  Wren gave the door a crooked smirk
before pulling herself out of the bath.

	-x-

	Diagon Alley disappointed Wren horribly.  That was, in large part,
because of the fact that the war was declared over less than a week before,
she hoped.  The five of them walked over irregular cobbles between closed
shops to Edmund Howe's office.

	`Quality Quiddich Supplies,' Wren read off the sign.  Harry smiled and
reached for the broom displayed in the window, and Wren watched the moving
pictures of witches and wizards on brooms, `So how does one make a flying
broom?'

	`Only the broom makers know, and they guard their secrets tightly.'

	`Let me guess, everyone with a valuable secret guards it tightly,'
Wren frowned, `Not secret, technique.  Wand makers don't talk to broom makers
and broom makers don't talk to carpet makers,' Wren turned to look at the
girls.

	`Flying carpets are illegal,' Narcissa said, `Have been since the
1750s.  Supposedly it was to help indigenous carpet makers, but they got
arrested and thrown in jail a couple years later.'

	`And here I'd wondered why you were such a backward lot,' Wren shook
her head, `Do we need to blow up parliment or something to fix that?'

	`Blowing up the muggle parliment wouldn't help much, and I don't think
you could blow up the Wizengamot,' Bellatrix laughed, suddenly, `That would
take a mighty big boom.'

	`Yes, it would.  Do you have a broom?  A flying one?'

	Narcissa nodded, then followed as Wren turned and swept down the
Alley.  A few hundred meters down she had to pull up sharply as Wren stopped,
a wide grin splitting the shorter woman's face, `What have we here?'

	`Knockturn Alley.  Good little witches don't go down there.'

	`Oh?' Wren paused, then settled Harry on her hip.  She thought about
either handing Harry off to Bellatrix or making her take point, then decided
that they needed more bodies and some practice before trying anything that
ornate, `Bellatrix to my left, Narcissa, bring up the rear, if anyone attacks
stop them.'

	Draco squeeked when Narcissa gave him a squeeze, but the girls
followed Wren into the Alley.  They didn't get too far, Wren had to stop at
every shop and talk to the shopkeeper, look through her, or occasionally his,
wares, and repeatedly ask the girls, `Do you have one of these?' before
drifting on.

	At ten to eleven Wren glanced at her watch, having to shift Harry
halfway to her other arm to do it, `We've got ten minutes, which way, Trixie?'

	`Back to Diagon, then on the way we were going for a few minutes.'

	`Guess we'll have to walk fast, then.' 

	-x-

	Edmund hands Wren her copies of the paperwork, and Wren looked them
over, shocked, `So, there's no hearing, and no visit from a social worker-'

	`What's a social worker?' Edmund interupted her.

	`A person, generally a woman, trained and employed to look after
people.  They've got a rep as being not very good at it, but they can't suck
too bad or they wouldn't get paid,' Wren paused, `Hopefully, anyway.  But you
filed the papers two days ago, and he's mine now?  That's it?'

	`Yep.  Posession is nine-tenths of the law, and the last tenth is
blood, and you've spilled, and lost, quite enough of that to cover it,' Edmund
smiled, `Most magical ancestry rituals will show you as his mother because of
that.'

	Wren laughed, soft and bitter, `Well, that wasn't what I expected.'

	Bellatrix brought her eyes up to meet Narcissa's, darkly concerned,
then she turned to Edmund, `And what did the Profit say about a possible
buyout?'

	`Nothing helpful.  The owner's obsfrucated for his protection, since
Mister Dalton was killed in a death eater attack five years ago,' he looked at
his hands, `But the manager said there was a definate possibility of interest,
and he'd bring it up with the owner.  Nothing for a few months, at the
earliest.'

	`What about weekly or monthly papers?  Wireless stations?' Wren asked.

	Edmund and the girls quickly compiled a list, which Wren put in a
cargo pocket.

	`How much trouble is it to create a new wireless station?  We could
play muggle music, and have wizarding-friendly muggle places advertise in it.'

	`That might work,' Edmund made a few notes.

	`Any progress on the Sirius matter?' Wren said, after going over the
points she'd wanted to talk about on her fingers.

	`We, well, me representing you, if that's alright,' he continued after
Wren's nod, `Put in a petition as the injured party,' he looked particularly
at Harry, and Wren nodded again, `To have him tried under Veritasium.  If he's
guilty, we'll be able to take, since he's the last remaining male Black,
everything but the house his mother is living in and two hundred galleons a
year for her upkeep.'

	Narcissa gasped.

	Wren glanced at her, then turned back to Edmund, `I'm guessing that's
a lot, then?'

	`They made the Lestranges look poor.'

	Wren slumped, then flopped back in her chair and addressed the
ceiling, `So, we've been stiffling innovation, consolidating wealth, have a
legal system that's barbaric, no, that's an insult to the barbarians, no
offense, Edmund.'

	`None taken.'

	`A population that would vanish into any small town in America larger
than Shakespeare, New Mexico,' she looked at Bellatrix, `Population two,' then
back at the ceiling, `And you've been having terrorists run around killing
people fairly openly for better than ten years.  At least money's real easy to
get around here, maybe we can spread it around a bit.  Oh,' she sat up,
looking at Edmund again, `What's the status on the estates of the four death
eaters?'

	`There's no one left to contest the Lestrange estate, if Miss
Bellatrix doesn't,' Bellatrix shook her head, `The Nott widow wants to talk to
you, and the late Mister Malfoy's younger half-brother-'

	`Tibbles,' Narcissa snarled, her jaw clenching.

	`Yes, Tibbles, wants her, the house, and the money, but is fine with
letting you keep, how did he put it, "The Brat."'

	`Well, I don't think we want him to have any of it.  Do we have access
to the main Lestrange vault?'

	`Not yet, but the documents are filed, and should be back next week.'

	`Any other Notts than the widow I need to worry about?'

	`No, they're all dead.'

	`If this Dark Lord Runs-From-Death was so anti-muggle, how come we've
got 81(?) million muggles in Britain, and none of the purebloods I've met yet
have grandparents?  Most of them don't even have parents, but if witches tend
to live to a hundred and seventy to a hundred and eighty, we should be about
drowning in old women.'

	`Witches tend not to live that long.  Most pureblood witches, at least
the ones from "good" families, are insane by the age of seventy or eighty.
Widows and spinsters, for some reason,' Bellatrix gave Wren a crooked smile,
`Tend to live to that hundred and eighty mark you mentioned.'

	`Oh?' Wren frowned, `Where can I get the numbers on that?'

	`Get the numbers?' all three of them look confused, but Narcissa asked
the question.

	`Statistics?' at the continued blank looks Wren waxed pendantic on a
subject even she had to admit she was not the best at, and eventually got
something like the point across, `So if we can show that witches who've been
married with coercive clauses in the wedding contracts are actually harmed by
them, we might be able to illegalize the practice, or enforce it if it's
already illegal.'

	`And, using these "Statistics," we can show a court, say, that
werewolves are less dangerous than broomsticks, and don't need such heavy
control . . . '

	Wren shrugged, `One can lie with numbers just as easily as with words,
but the methods are different.  If the data is off, then the result will be
wrong.'

	A discussion on the fun and exciting things than can be done with
lies, damned lies, and statistics followed.

	`I think the data, if we look at it, will show that Runs-from-death
wanted to destroy the wizarding world, and his going after muggles was just a
ruse to hide it.  The muggles certainly haven't noticed.'

	`That'd be the obliviator's doing, probably,' Edmund said.

	Wren looked at him for a moment, waiting, then said, `Which are?'

	`They erase or change people's memories.'

	`Is this a difficult or dangerous spell?'

	`Only if you don't care about damaging the subject,' Bellatrix said,
`There's little danger for the caster.'

	`Oh _joy_,' Wren looked at the ceiling again, `So any Tom, Dick, or
Harry can just fuck with anyones memories?  Do you at least need special
equipment?'

	`No.'

	`Can we tell when someone's been obliviatored?'

	`There's a spell, but-'

	`Can we unobliviator somone?  Give them their memories back, restore
modified ones?'

	`Somewhat.  Recently obliviated things can be restored fairly easily,
and modified memories are restorable for much longer than erased ones.'

	`Twenty thousand, how long does it take to check if someone's been
obliviatored?'

	`Five minutes.'

	`And to give them their memories back, if it can be done?'

	`Anywhere from half an hour to four or five hours.'

	`And the average?'

	Blank looks.

	`Most commonly?'

	`An hour, hour and a half.'

	`How long does it take to teach someone to check for obliviatoring?'

	`Simple obliviation?  A couple hours.  Careful work by a skilled
obliviator you need some experience to detect.'

	`So, twenty thousand, five minutes each, that's a hundred thousand
minutes, eight hours a day . . . '

	Edmund spoke up while she was chasing the numbers, `Just over two
hundred days, for one person.  Get five teams of five, and we can have
everyone in the wizarding world screened in days.'

	`And everyone who's left it over time.  If even a quarter, five
thousand, have been obliviatored, we'll need fifty skilled people for months.
How much would that cost?'

	`The twenty-five screeners we could have for probably five thousand
galleons for the week.   The skilled people will probably cost about three
hundred galleons a week each.'

	`Petty change.  Can we break coercive charms and clauses at the same
time?' Wren smiled.

	Edmund smiled back, `That could tear wizarding Britain apart.  Curse
breakers run about five hundred a week, and I have no idea how many of them
we'd need.'

	`Start with two per screening team, and have more on retainer if we
need them,' Narcissa nodded, sharply, smiling, `Happy witches don't join dark
lords.'

	`Anti-obliviatoring magic?  Is there any?' Wren asked, `Could we do it
area-affect, or does it have to be subject-specific?'

	`That sounds like something wards might be good for,' Bellatrix
shrugged, `All I ever learned about them was how to break them.'

	`Well, we've got something, then,' Wren smiled still looking up at the
ceiling, `We won't be able to prevent determined people, but this casual
shit's gotta stop.  Can we tell who obliviatored someone?'

	`Sometimes, but not always.'

	`Sometimes is better than never, particularly if we can spin it to
"most of the time,"' Wren sat up, then stood, collected Harry from where he
and Draco were stacking blocks.  Well, Harry stacked and Draco knocked down,
but they had not come to blows yet, `We'll see you next Friday?' she asked
Edmund.

	`We might be able to swing a trial for Sirius by Wednesday.'

	`Damn, you guys move fast,' Wren smiled, `Have some curse breakers
there to look him over for coercives or other magic.'

	`That's a very good idea.'

	-x-

	On the way out Wren was distracted by the sight of Ollivanders, and
dragged the other two inside, `Hello?'

	`Hello, child, I haven't seen you before.'

	`It's my first time,' she smiled at the old man, `I just wanted to
waste your time talking about history a bit.'

	`Oh?' he asked.

	`Your sign says you've been open for a long time, has that been in the
same spot?'

	`No, no, no, we moved to England when the Romans chased us out of
Gaul, and we were there because the Athenians had gotten horrible, and chased
us out of Greece.'

	`Wow,' Wren smiled brightly, impressed, `So when was this shop built?'

	`Sixteen twelve, before the great fire,' He gestured around, proud,
`This building has stood on this spot ever since.  Most of Diagon Alley was
built up around it in the sixteen seventies.'

	`Neat,' Wren pulled Malfoy's wand out of her hip pocket, and showed it
to Ollivander, who recognized it instantly.  Once he'd stopped mumbling about
it, she asked, `I killed him, so this has decided it's now my wand, right?'

	Ollivander nodded.

	`Now, is there a difference in the spells you can cast with different
wands?  Does a wand that's been stored for five or six hundred years have the
same spells as a wand that was made last year?'

	`A spell, as you've guessed, is charmed into the wand, and you use
your magic to power the spell, and the incantation and gestures to tell the
wand which spell to use, and sometimes for aiming the spell,' he looked a
little sad, `We haven't added any new spells to a standard wand in almost four
hundred years, ever since the great purge of 1595, following the second Goblin
rebellion.  There are hundreds of spells that used to be common and are now
illegal.'

	`What do they do, these illegal spells?'

	`All sorts of things.  Cure muggles of the Plague, repair a person's
magical core, turn witches into wizards and back again.'

	`Interesting,' Wren said, `And they've not put any new spells in since
the purge?  Why not?'

	`Mostly because all of the good, well, skillful, spell-crafters were
killed during the purge, and they've been careful to keep anyone from learning
how since.'

	Wren looked at the surprised faces of Bellatrix and Narcissa, then
back to Ollivander, `And why are you telling this to me?  They obviously don't
know it.'

	`Because I've got a compulsion on me that says I can't tell muggles,
someone who hasn't got a wand, or someone who's acquired a wand from me,' he
smiled, `But you have a wand, but not from me, so I can tell you.'

	`Trixie, could we,' Wren stopped at the look on Ollivander's face,
`Thank you for this enlightening talk, Mister Ollivander.'

	`You are most welcome, Miz Xom.'

	Wren cocked her head in bemusement, then straightened and smiled,
`I'll see you some other time, then?'

	`That would be fine.  Have fun shopping,' Ollivander shook her hand,
and she lead the way out of the shop again, tucking Lucius's wand back into
her pocket.

	`So sex-change spells are illegal, but memory erasing ones aren't.
Bah, Humbug,' Wren grumbled.

	On the way back out Wren noticed the bookshop, and led the way in,
asked the young woman behind the counter, `Do you have a good overview of the
wizarding world?  Something to help someone who's spent most of their life
with muggles would be good, and a book for witch children.  One for wizard
children would be nice, if it's different than the one for witch children.'

	She was shown to the proper sections, and dug through for several
minutes, selecting several books.  On her way back she found a copy of "Who's
Who of Hogwarts students, 1920-1980," and tossed that in the pile after
flipping through it for a moment, seeing several familiar names. 

	Bellatrix shrunk their purchases, and Wren tossed them in her cargo
pockets, where they bulged and rubbed at her knees.  She mostly ignored the
minor discomfort.

	-x-

	After dinner Wren insisted on a bed of her own, and sat on it, the two
little boys asleep beside her, as she threw ideas at Narcissa and Bellatrix,
`So, we want to,' she flopped over on her back, `We need henches, and minions.
How much do they cost?'

	`Henches?' Bellatrix asked, confused.

	`A henchman, or henchwoman, or henchwench, is a person you can trust
to accomplish well-defined tasks.  A minion is good for more difficult things.
Minions would hire medics and oversee training obliviator-screeners.  Henches
provide security and keep them safe.'

	`We just hire them?'

	`Well, we should try to make sure they're not plants, but yeah, pretty
much.'

	`I know some people who might be interested,' Bellatrix smiled,
suddenly, `Several of my fellows were brought into my,' she paused, `Former
organization, shall we say, under false pretences, or at least misleading
ones.   They are . . . dissatisfied by the results.'

	`If you trust them, contact them.  Obliviator them or kill them,
whichever is safer, should they prove unsuitible.  If they're suitible, make
sure they get healed after the mark is removed.'

8
11 November 1992

	`Miss Carrow?' Wren asked Alecto carefully.

	Alecto looked up, blushed, and looked down again, `Yes, Miss Xom?'

	`Leave off the miss, if you're gonna use my last name, or call me
Wren,' she shook her head, `Am I that scary?'

	`No,' Alecto shook her head, somehow slouching even smaller than
normal, `Nothing like that.'

	`Then what's wrong?' Wren dropped down on her heels, looking up into
Alecto's face.

	`Nothing,' Alecto lied, blushing and looking away.

	`Are you lying to me, or to yourself?'

	`Just you,' Alecto's hands twined around each other, white-knuckled.

	`If,' Wren went silent for a moment, then dropped to sit tailor-style,
kneadded at her calf a moment, `What you don't let me know about I can't do
anything useful about.'

	`You can't do anything about it, anyway.'

	Wren looked up, and caught Alecto's eye, `Then it shouldn't hurt to
tell me, should it?'

	`I think you're lovely,' Alecto blurted out, then spun on her feet and
bolted.

	Wren, cought flat-footed, watched the witch's awkward run for a
moment, then rolled to her feet and sprinted after her.  She overtook the
other witch, slowed to run alongside, and asked, `Why would a cute witch
telling me she thinks I'm nice be reason to bolt?'

	Alecto staggered to a stop, swaying, and turned incredulous eyes up at
Wren, `I'm not cute.'

	Wren just looked back at her.

	`I'm fat, and ugly, and a hunchback, and my _face_ . . . ' she trailed
off, staring at Wren.

	`How much do you weigh?' Wren asked.  She sat down and patted the
ground next to her.

	Alecto sat next to her, and answered in a small voice, `Six stone.'

	`Am I fat?'

	`No, not at all!'

	`I weigh nine stone, you know,' Wren said, `And my jaw's too square,
and my hairline's receeding as I go bald, and I stuff my bra because
otherwise,' Wren drew her bladed hand straight down in front of her, `When my
belly doesn't stick out further than that.  I know, up here,' she rapped her
knuckles on her temple, `That I'm not nearly as unattractive as I see myself,
but I don't really believe it,' she turned towards the little witch, `I think,
for what it's worth, that you've got a lovely nose, and your face is a very
nice shape, and your eyes are lovely,' she reached out, and cupped Alecto's
acne-blotched cheek in her hand.

	Alecto rubbed her face against Wren's hand, `I think it's huge and
hooked and awful, and no matter what I do to my face it's always broken out
like this, and I can't even look a tall person in the eyes without leaning
back,' she blinked, wetness glittering in her lashes.

	`A witch should have a properly hooked nose, not a non-descript wide
little thing like mine,' Wren drew her hand back, not breaking contact, to
carress Alecto's nose, `And yours is about perfect.'

	`Your nose isn't wide,' Alecto contradicted her, `It's not a skinny
one like Narcissa's, but it isn't wide, either.'

	`See what I mean?' Wren slid her hand down to Alecto's shoulder,
leaning back a bit, `You think I'm cute, I think you're cute, and we both
think we're ugly,' she smiled a crooked smile.

	`Well, if I'm cute,' Alecto said, `You shouldn't mind this,' she
cupped one hand behind Wren's head, then leaned in and kissed her, a soft,
chaste, lingering, closed-mouth kiss.

	Wren smiled when Alecto broke the kiss, `I don't.'

	`Good,' Alecto sat back, then leaned up against Wren's shoulder.
After a moment she picked up Wren's hand in both of hers, and examined it
closely, compared it to her own.  Wren's nails were short, unpolished, and
irregular, each of her fingers was scarred, and her palms were broad, Alecto's
palm only covered Wren's to her pinky.  Alecto's fingers were slender but long,
as long as Wren's, and Wren smiled at the mint-green polish on her nails.

	After a bit Alecto dropped her hands to her lap, still holding Wren's.
Wren twisted to look at her, only to find that Alecto was asleep, a contented
smile on her face for the first time since Wren had met her.

	Wren sat there until dinner, letting Alecto sleep.

13 November 1992

	Wren rolled out of bed to the happy sounds of Bellatrix and Narcissa
trying to be quiet, glanced at the sleeping boys, then collected wand and
pistol belt from under her pillow.  The belt clicked around her waist over her
shirt, and the .45 settled, a comforting weight on her hip.  Mostly awake by
that time, she walked to the washroom.

	A few minutes later, shaved, she walked back, and dressed.  

	She raised an eyebrow when the other four finally made it down to the
breakfast table, nearly forty minutes later, and got a blush from Bellatrix.

	That got the expected teasing from the minions.  Severus, Wren had yet
to get him to use anything close to Sam, started off with a dry, `Having a
good morning, are we?'

	Alecto laughed, and Amicius scowled down at his plate.  Bellatrix
smiled, `Yes, actually.  We need to find you a girlfriend, don't we?'

	`Probably,' Wren said, `And Alecto, as well?'

	Alecto stammered something that isn't quite a denial, and Amicius
scowled harder, his fork grinding against his plate.

	`Amicius,' Narcissa growled, `I would appreciate it if you didn't
damage my plates too badly.  Do you prefer girls or boys?'

	`Blokes,' He grumbled, `Not that I'd ever get any.'

	`You're not that hard on the eyes,' Wren demured, `If I fancied blokes
you'd be shaggable,' she thoughtfully didn't add "in the dark with a bag over
my head," since she was sure that would be uncharitable, and put him into an
even worse snit than normal.  `And making someone pretty's just expensive, not
illegal, so,' she shrugged, `We could give you an advance on your pay to cover
it, if you want.'

	Amicius's head jerked up, and he stared at her, `What?'

	`I'm going to cover some of it anyway, since both of you are
annoyingly recognizeable right now, so unless you object I'm going to cover
the spinal work and straightening,' Wren stuffed a triangle of pancake into her
mouth to keep from having to talk for a moment.

	`Oh,' Alecto started to cry, and Wren looked up at her.  Amicius just
continued to stare, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

	`What?' Wren asked softly when she'd swallowed, `What's wrong?'

	`Nothing,' Alecto said, continuing to cry, `But it costs so much,' she
hickupped, `We'd never be able to pay you back,' somehow she managed to look
even more distressed than before.

	`It's about ten thousand galleons,' Wren shrugged, `So, no, it isn't
cheap, but it's hardly going to break us.  The hearings about the Nott,
Malfoy, and Lestrange monies are next month.  If I get any of those, much less
all of them, I'll be able to pay that much every day for the next fifteen
years,' she suddenly turned to Narcissa, `Has Nott's wife replied back yet?'

	`Not yet.  Shall we visit Sunday if we haven't recieved an answer by
then?'

	`Lets,' Wren agreed, then turned back to the Carrows, `You're my
people, so I need to look after you,' she shrugged, `On less emotional
subjects, how many of the Death Eaters are left?'

	`Rookwood and Macnair were yesterday, Karkarov is in hiding, Pettigrew
as well,' Bellatrix suddenly smiled, `That's all that are left of the death
eaters.'

	`So,' Wren smiled, `We, being two witches and a squib, destroyed a
terrorist organization that had been terrorizing the Wizarding World for over
a decade,' she shook her head, `There's something very wrong with that, even
with our inside information.  We've got Sirius's trial Wednesday, and Edmund's
managed to convince the Ministry to transfer most of the prisoners out of
Azkaban to,' she paused, `Recover, before their trials.  That will leave ten
human guards, and four prisoners who's terms are up in the next month so they
won't get tried.  I've got hypothetical agreement from,' she cocked her head
to one side, `the explosives expert, and she's found us a betacam operator, so
we'll be able to show our demands.  I'll try to write up a script, and we can
practice a couple times, with the costumes.'

	`What does V.A. stand for?' Amicius, less sullen than Wren had ever
seen him, asked.

	`Veterans Affairs, Vengence Association, Voldemort's Antithesis, what
the fuck ever.  It doesn't really mean anything, but they'll spend lots of
time trying to figure it out,' she suddenly smiled, `And I've got the perfect
logo,' she laughed, `It's trademarked, but we don't have to worry about that,
since we're operating outside the law anyway.'

	 `Outside the law,' Alecto frowned a bit, `That's such a polite way of
saying illegal.'

	`Umm Hmmph,' Wren agreed, `It's not like your former organization was
much concerned about legal or moral qualms,' she smiled, `We've, or at least
I've, got ethical qualms to keep us safe, even if we don't have legal ones.'

	Severus laughed bitterly, `If I had ethical qualms earlier, he,' he
pointed at Harry with his chin, `Would still have a mother.'

	`Perhaps, perhaps not.  If the fucking Wizarding World believed in
ethics, she might have two,' Wren's fist clenched, and her plate shattered.

	`Help?' she asked, forking the last bit of pancake out of the mess.

	`Reparo,' Amicius fixed the plate.

	-*-

	It took a few hours for the preliminary examinations, then nearly
another hour to get appointments for the Carrow's surgery, but enough money
was eventually dropped on the healer's desk to bring the wait down from months
to weeks.  After that the minions were sent to recruit henches, and a
medic-minion.

	Wren, the girls, and the babies went to visit Muriel at her work.

	After over two hours of hassling the customers and making Muriel's
work harder, if more amusing, it was her lunch break.  

	`So,' Wren asked again, `What are we going to feed you?'

	`Well, there's curry,' she frowned, `But I've had that twice this week
already, thanks to somebody,' she arched an eyebrow, cutting her eyes towards
Wren, `So I think I want,' she trailed off, `Oh, heck with it, have you had
fish and chips yet?'

	`No,' Wren shook her head, and was amused to see Narcissa do so as
well.

	`Careful,' Wren told Harry a few minutes later, handing him his food,
`It's still kinda hot.'

	`Hot,' Harry nodded, taking the paper cone in both hands.  His attempt
to copy Wren's technique of blowing on her food as she bit it was only partly
successful, but he persevered.  Muriel settled on Wren's other side, and
Narcissa and Bellatrix flanked Draco on the bench across the park path.
They carefully watched the area.

	Wren turned to Muriel, `So, Edmund has, in a move that I'd say was
impossibly fast out in the real world, managed to get all ninety of the
prisoners who aren't being released at the end of the month new trials, in
some cases first trials.  They'll be moved off Azkaban starting tomorrow, and
will be in Ministry holding cells recovering.  Their trials start next Friday,
and Azkaban will be down to ten guards and four prisoners Wednesday.  I need
to find five henches by then, but that shouldn't be a problem, I've got the
minions on it.'

	`Henches?' Muriel laughed, `and minions?  So you're the new dark
lady?'

	`No, I'm just a girl with too much money and too much to do, so,' she
shrugged, `Besides, it's what,' she paused to watch Harry wave a chip for
several seconds before he decided it was cool enough to eat and stuffed it in
his mouth, `They are, so,' her shoulders twitched in another half-shrug.

	`So you, the henches, the minions, and me-'

	`And the cameraperson,' Wren broke in.

	`And the cameragirl, will take the boat, assault the island, capture
the guards and prisoners, then nuke it along with the dementors?'

	`Yep!' Wren nodded decisively, `I've even got the costumes for
everyone!'

	`Costumes?'

	`Right, can't have us recognized, so I've acquired enough polyjuice
for all of us, and one of the minions managed to get a hair sample
from Princess Diana for you and from the Queen for me.'

	Muriel just gaped, amazed at the affrontery, then smiled, `And the
muggles will think it's makeup, the Wizards will know it's polyjuice, but
neither will have any idea who it really is.'

	`I've got black BDUs for everyone, and I've ordered the unit patches,
they're due in Monday.  Nametapes are coming to a different address, and
Alecto says she can sew all of them on in one night, so we'll be ready to go
Wednesday evening after Sirius's trial.'

	`What do the nametapes say?'

	`Dumbledore or Bagnold,' Wren smiled, `I'm not sure if I should be
Dumbledore or Bagnold, but the rest of you should wear the other.'

	Muriel laughed, `Maybe you should wear Windsor and the rest of us
Stewart.'

	`Grindelwald.'

	`Pott.'

	`Duvalier.'

	`Hoover.'

	`Stalin,' Wren laughed, `Next time.  For now we'll go with what I've
got.'

	`OK.  Elizabeth "doesn't know" about this, and would really prefer not
to, so don't get us caught, OK?'

	`I don't want to get caught with a real, live atomic bomb either, so,'
Wren shrugged, `I'll do my best.'

	`Thanks,' Muriel leaned over and gave the smaller woman a hug before
she stood and walked back to work, crumbling the greasy newspaper cone before
she threw it away.

	`You're welcome,' Wren said to her back, then ate her last chunk of
fish.

	-*-

	`This,' Alecto smiled, happier than Wren had ever seen her, `Is Poppy
Pomfrey.  She's a member of the Order of the Phoenix,' Poppy started at this,
`And one of the most skillful general medics I've ever had work on me.'

	`Really?' Wren smiled up at the just slightly taller woman, `How did
that happen?' she asked Poppy.

	`I'm the school mediwitch at Hogwarts.'

	`Which explains how you ended up in the Order,' Wren nodded, `So why
are you joining my violent revolution?'

	`Because this war has been really hard on the world, and especially on
my students.  And it wasn't the first, and unless something drastic changes,
it won't be the last, not even the last for a while, this peace won't even
last two decades before we have someone else who the world's crapped on who
wants to rule it or destroy it, and can find stupid people to follow him.'

	Severus choked at the stupid, as did Bellatrix.

	Poppy noticed, and snorted, `OK, is foolish better?'

	Severus nodded, and Bellatrix shrugged.

	`So break this world, if we can build something better from the
pieces,' Poppy finished.

	`You'll do, I think,' Wren held out her hand, and Poppy shook it.  She
turned back to the minions, `And was the hench-search as successful?'

	`We managed to recruit Mrs. Crouch, Nott, Goyle and Crabbe's widows,
both of the Lovegoods, although Celestina wants to be a minion, instead-'

	`Wait, the Lovegoods who run the Quibbler?'

	`Yes.'

	`How did, why, what made you --'

	`Xenophilus is quite vocal in his condemnation of the Ministry on all
issues Scientific, and Celestina has a column every issue complaining about
how the Ministry is interfering with her research,' Severus said, `So when
they walked in while we were pitching Mrs. Crouch,' he shrugged, `We felt them
out a bit, then offered them places.'

	Wren nodded, then paused, `Xenophilus?  Love-of-the-strange?'

	Severus nodded.

	Wren started laughing, `I've got to make you all watch that movie,
then.'

	`Movie?' Poppy asked.

	Several minutes of explanation turned into renting a copy of _Dr.
Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb_, then a
hotel room with a VCR.  The minions and henches somehow managed to all pack
in, after expanding the room a bit, and learned more about Muggles and their
wars than they ever knew before.

	Wren seriously contemplated on whether she wanted to be Wren
Strangelove, or if she wanted the head of the V.A. to be Doctor Strangelove.
She went to bed still undecided.

16 November 1992

	`When we get to the boat dock, what do you do?' Wren asked Xenophilus.

	`I bat my eyes at the auror guard, and ask to see the boat, then cosh
him and wave the rest of you forward.  I bind him, then Michelle grabs him,
tosses him in the bunker, and joins us.  Celestina stays in the bunker,
guarding the rear and the kids.'

	`I'm still wibbling on that, it might be safest to leave them home,
with Celestina to watch them, but I'd want at least three more henches then,
one to help Celestina, and two to guard our backs,' she frowns, `Bah fucking
humbug.'

	`Andromeda?' Severus asks, `Nym's almost seven, she could help with
the little ones, and Ted's fairly useful, too.'

	`Who's Andromeda?'

	`Our middle sister,' Narcissa smiled, `Who, probably, we can get back
once Sirius is cleared.  She got expelled from the family for marrying Ted.'

	`That's lovely,' Wren smiled, `How fucking messed up are these
pureblood families?'

	`Some of them aren't as bad as ours, but,' Bellatrix shrugged, `Might
be able to get my sister in law and her husband, too.'

	`Oh?'

	`Prisilla is a medic at St. Mungo's, and her husband John is some sort
of idle rich.  Nice people, they hated my husband and his brother.'

	`More medics is always a good thing.  See if we can get them to help
babysit, and Andomeda and Ted for the rear guard.'

	`Will do.'

	-*-

	`Michelle?' Wren asked Mrs. Nott, who hadn't left with the rest of the
henches.

	`You're,' she paused, `You hold my contract by right,' she paused
again, `What do you wish of me?'

	Wren blinked, `I want you to be happy,' her lips quirked up crookedly,
`I like being hugged, and held, and cuddled, but I'm not going to accept
anything more than that for gratitude, or obligation, or pretty much any
reason other than you personally, sincerely want to.  If you want to find
yourself a bloke, or a bird, or a little old lady, I don't care so long as
both of you are happy with it.'

	`And children?'

	`Are your choice.  If you're in love with a family member, I'd like
most of your children to have four grandparents, but that's your business,
really.'

	Michelle smiled crookedly, `I'm guessing that's Bella and Cissy's
fault?'

	`Trixie, but yeah.'

	`They're really pretty.'

	`That's their business.'

	`OK,' Michelle smiled, `So I can ask them?'

	`Feel free.'

	Once Michelle was out of sight Wren bit her hand, leaving a pink ring
of tooth marks about the base of her thumb.  After she watched the spit dry,
she went to hide in the bathtub.
	
18 November 1992

	Wren woke, rolled out of bed, gathered wand and pistol, then walked
over to look down on the still sleeping girls.  Narcissa was sprawled over
Bellatrix, her blonde head tucked under her older sister's chin, pale hair
mixing with black.  Bellatrix shifted slightly, her hand on Narcissa's waist
under the covers, and Wren smiled, blinking, at the content look on her face.

	She spun and left the room.

	When they arrived for breakfast Bellatrix grumbled, `You really should
just get a beard-removal potion, they last for months,' then healed Wren's
face.

	-*-

	Wren had spent what felt like hours, and probably was, arguing with
the girls over what to wear to Sirius's trial.  The eventual decision was
black non-dress robes over their normal clothing, so Wren was twitching
slightly when she walked into the courtroom.  The billowy outfit swirled
around her legs, catching and bunching, which was annoying enough, but it also
blocked most easy draws of either her wand or pistol.  She had already figured
out what to do about it, but that would have to wait at least another day.
She found a seat, settled Harry in her lap, and her Clipit in her hand.
Narcissa sat next to her, and Bellatrix took the other side, against the
aisle.

	The rest of the audience filed in and settled noisily onto the benches.
After a while Sirius was led in by a bailiff and seated in the center chair.

	It promptly wrapped him in chains, and Wren winced.  Edmund Howe
leaned over Narcissa and touched Wren's hand.

	*Snick*

	`Hey,' Edmund said, freezing.

	`Sorry,' Wren closed the knife, but didn't put it away, `Bit high
strung today.'

	`That's fine,' Edmund said, `But Mickey knows what she's doing, and
should mop the floor with the prosecutor.'

	The trial reminded Wren more of an episode of _Night Court_ than of
the court martial's she had attended, but after a lot of snarking and
complaining Sirius was declared a free man.

	She stepped up to collect him, `Mister Black,' she started, `I'm sure
you know your cousins, and I think Mister Howe, but I'm Wren.'

	Sirius blinked down at her for several seconds before he took in the
child on her left hip, `Oh!  You killed those death eaters.'

	`Yep.  You're Harry's godfather, so,' she shrugged, `We've space, if
you need somewhere to crash.'

	Sirius blinked again, still groggy, `Sounds good.'

	`Edmund?'

	The lawyers joined the procession, and Wren started them towards the
doors, Severus and Alecto on point.

	A tall, brown-haired woman with a purple-haired child drifted up,
`Sirius?' she asked.

	`Uncle Sirius?' the child asked as well.

	Wren turned to watch as Sirius drifted towards them, Narcissa
following.  Bellatrix stayed at Wren's left.

	`Who's she?' Wren asked her softly.

	`My little sister, Cissy's big sister, Andromeda.  Auntie burned her
off the tapestry when she married.'

	`So the little one is hers, then?'

	`My niece, Nymphadora Tonks.'

	`Can we,' Wren smiled, then walked over to where Narcissa was crying
on Andromeda's shoulder, `Ms. Tonks?' she asked, continued when she looked up,
`Would you like to come home with us?  I've got an errand to run with some of
the minions, but that shouldn't take too long, and you could spend the time
with your sister and the kids?'

	-*-

	Wren was surprised by how difficult it was to part from Harry -- she'd
accepted the twitching and anxiety when separated from a weapon years ago, but
this was new.  She watched the girl try, and mostly fail, to interest the boys
in a tea party.  Harry looked vaugely interested, but Draco easily trumped her
offering with, `Frogs!'

	So the kids scurried out to hassle the frogs in the pond, Sirius,
Narcissa, and Andromeda following along easily.

	Wren turned to her minions, `John, you and Celestina are on guard
here.  The kids are priority, of course, then the adults.  Only worry about
property after any threats have been neutralized, got that?'

	Celestina nodded, stroked her young baby's pale cheek.

	`Yes Ma'am,' John agreed.

	They started out into the garden while Wren choked down the urge to
tell them she worked for a living.

	She led her minions and henches into the second largest storage room,
`We need to build a batcave, if we're going to keep this up,' she said,
staring at her vial of greyish sludge, which smelled like boot polish.

	Muriel snorted a short laugh, both her and Elizabeth, who had the
camera, already in uniform.

	`Batcave?' Severus asked, already, along with the rest, changing into
his princess-sized BDUs.

	`A muggle thing.  I'll show you all later, OK?'

	He nodded, and Wren's eyes swept over the group, all in British
Woodland BDUs with "V.A." over the left pocket and "Bagnold" over the right.
The uniforms, unlike her people, were all the same size, so they looked rather
motley standing there, each holding a vial of golden sludge.  She looked down
at her flat chest, and the "Dumbledore" over her right pocket, then tipped her
potion back.

	The rest of them followed suit, then adjusted their uniforms and bras
as needed.  Wren shook her shoulders once she'd gotten adjusted, then smiled,
`Tie your hair back, too, Alecto,' she told the only Princess Diana with her
hair down.  Alecto nodded, and did so.

	`Let's go,' Wren told them, and they all trooped out into the side
garden and joined hands.  Bellatrix took Wren's hand, and Wren grabbed the
portkey, activiting it.

	She yelped at the feeling of being yanked by her center of gravity,
the whole group spinning around her, and laughed.  She hit the ground, much
more lightly than after a parachute jump, in a very sloppy PLF, and lay there
laughing for a moment before rolling to her feet, grey hair falling in her
eyes before she shoved it back.

	`Let's go.  Alpha team, you ready?'

	The boat capture team nodded.

	`Lead on, then.'

	`We're here today to take care of a secret prison run by the British
government.  This prison isn't on any map, and is elided from satellite
pictures of the North Sea.  We are going to declassify it today,' Wren told
Elizabeth's camera, her back to the sea.

	`Boat captured, Doctor!' Someone, Wren thought it was Severus, yelled.

	`As you will see, the conditions at this prison are reprehensible.  A
concerted effort has been made to ensure an ambiance of mediaval squallor, and
that effort extends to the costumes of the guards,' Wren gestures at some of
the bound guards, stacked in the corner of their guard shack, `And equipment,'
at the boat.  `We determined that most of the prisoners had been removed to
sit before a secret tribunal, and expect only ten guards and four prisoners
today.'

	The group filed onto the boat, and quickly had it under way.  Ten
minutes later they reached Azkaban's dock, and Elizabeth filmed the castle
while Bravo team took the two guards in the shack.  They're carried to the
boat and dropped inside.  Wren looked at a floating Dementor, then back to
Elizabeth, who nodded, `Here we see one of the more interesting aspects of
this prison -- holographic projections called "Dementors," which are used to
keep the prisoners in line.'

	Charlie and Delta manage to find the last four guards, and carry them
back to the boat.  Echo and Fox secure the prisoners, who look emaciated in
their threadbare grey robes.  Elizabeth makes sure to get good footage of
them, and of the cells they pass in the dirty halls.

	Bellatrix watches the door into the room they stop in, and Wren turns
back to the camera, `This room is just below the waterline, and should
thoroughly declassify the site with minimal radioactive fallout.  However, our
device has never been tested, so we're looking forward to the yield results,
and hope the weather report was right, and that sending the cloud out over the
North Sea is the proper answer.  I'm sure we'll find out.  Set it up.'

	Muriel sets the briefcase down, five kilos of lead foil around a
hollow eleven kilo oblate spheroid of impossibly pure Pu239, and a whole bunch
of blinking lights and maskirovka to disguise the magicly imploded device as a
mundane linear-implosion type, `Our new neutron reflector design should
increase yeild significantly over standard linear implosion pure-fission
devices, but that is something we will see soon.  Let's go.'

	Muriel closes the case, red LEDs blinking in a circle near the handle,
and leads the way out of the room with Bellatrix, Wren and Elizabeth
following.

	They reach the boat quickly, and the shore shortly after that.  All of
the prisoners are carried to the trench, and Wren checks her watch, downs her
second dose of Polyjuice, makes a face.  Everyone else checks to make sure
they are out of sight of the camera, and does the same.

	`We've got about a minute until the device should detonate.  We should
see a great flash, followed by a massive condensation effect, then the
mushroom cloud rising out of it.  About that time the shockwave should hit,
and the mushroom cloud will continue to rise,' Wren glanced at her watch, a
Walgreen's special she had picked up at a corner store in London for half a
quid that morning, `And we have thirty seconds left, sunglasses, girls,' she
looked to the north, `Fifteen,' she knelt, pulled a pair of sunglasses from
her cargo pocket and put them on, `Ten.'

	Elizabeth slipped a mirrored ninety-nine percent dark filter over the
Betacam's lens.

	`Five.'

	`Four.'

	`Three.'

	`Tw-'

	*FLASH*  A searingly-bright light cuts her off in mid-word.

	`Whoops.  Missed that a bit.  Camera still working?'

	Elizabeth nodded, pulled the filter off, and filmed the expanding
cloud of glowing fog.

	`Good.'

	The fog faded to white as the temperature inside drops, and the
mushroom coiled up from inside of it, boiling up into the sky.

	`As you can see, our device detonated sucessfully.  Only time will
tell if,'

	*KABOOM*  The first shockwave arrived with an earthshaking roar, and
Wren clapped her hands to her ears, as did the rest of her crew.

	Once it fades a bit, she straightened, `We declassified the site, or
if we'll have to repeat this.  We'll be sending copies of this tape to
every government and major media outlet, so I'd appreciate it if it was shown
in it's full Andy Warhol filmish glory.

	`We are the V.A., and we stand for Truth, Justice, and the American
Way.  You should too,' Wren gestured towards the still-climbing mushroom cloud,
`Or we'll have to help you.'

	Elizabeth stopped recording, and Wren yelled to her people, `Time to
go!  The planes will be here in minutes!'  A quick check to make sure everyone
had joined hands, then Wren unbuttoned her right rear hip pocket and grabbed
the portkey in it.

	They dropped into Narcissa's side garden, and Wren rolled to her feet
and lead them into the storage room again, checking dosemeters.  Everyone
seemed to have only taken a safe dose, and a quick Gieger counter check showed
only background radiation levels.

	`Good job, people, you've got probably forty-five minutes before the
polyjuice wears off.  We're going to dub tapes, and we'll be sending them in
a couple hours, unless they lock everything down.  Stay out of sight until
you're back to normal, but if there's anything you want to do in the mean
time,' Wren trailled off, smiling.  A dozen *Pop*s answered her, leaving her
with eleven Princess Dianas.  `You sure you don't want to do anything?' Wren
asks them while Elizabeth steps into the Faraday cage around the dubbing
setup.  The rest looked at each other, then take the hint.

	Elizabeth fed the tape into the Beta machine, rewound it, then started
dubbing it off.  `The first batch should be done in fifteen minutes,' she
said.

	`Good.  You don't have to stick around, but lock the door if you leave
the room or get distracted.  I'm going to go spend a bit of alone time with
the Queen of England,' Wren smiled impishly, `Never thought I'd be an old
woman before I was a young one, but oh well.'

	Muriel wrapped her in a firm hug, `You are a good woman.'

	`Thanks,' Wren said, shaking her head, `I'll be back in a bit.'

	-*-

	`OK, any questions before we start?'

	The other twenty three Princess Dianas shake their heads, `OK, then,
let's go.'

	Each group of two gathers up their fifteen pre-addressed packages, and
appparates out.  Five tapes per shop, UPS, FedEX, and DHL, second-day
delivery.  Labels laser-printed at a shop in London for a non-descript older
woman with a solid alibi, since she was teaching kindergarten while a hench
under polyjuice got them.

	Next day service got them out of the country before the post was
stopped.

	The footage was on the news the next day, along with fallout maps as
the cloud settled over the Netherlands, sickening dozens.

	Elizabeth took it particularly hard, and Muriel called in sick.
	
12
29 November 1992

	Wren placed her hand on the muggle photo of an M109A3 self-propelled
155mm howitzer, and the wall slid aside, revealing the bank of poles, and she
slid down one.  

	Wren smiles at the still-damp ferrocement lining her new secret
hideout.  It had taken more time to explain ferrocement than it had to create
the chambers under Narcissa's house, but the material proved as
spell-resistant as expected, the hot-worked rebar and welded wire's natural
resistance augmented by careful bending to form the wardwork, then slathered
in fine-mixed portland cement.  It wouldn't be completely cured for another
month, but it would be useable within days, and the bat-poles had made
Bellatrix laugh, which Wren found adorable.

	The dubbing equipment would be brought down over the next few days, as
would the rest of the V.A.'s special gear.

7 December 1992

	`I hadn't noticed the date,' Wren told Alecto, who was shivering
slightly, `December Seventh, 1941.  Fifty-one years since the US entered World
War Two.'

	That got a blank look from Alecto, and Wren stared at her, shocked.

	`The muggle war that killed fifty million people?'

	`There's fifty million people in the world?' Alecto asked.

	`There's something like eighty million people in Britain, dear.'

	`Oh,' Alecto looks down, `How was Runs-from-death going to kill eighty
million people if he only got ten or twelve a week?'

	`He was insane, obviously, or he had a different plan.'

	`What?  He'd kill about a dozen muggles and two dozen wizarding folk
every -- ' Alecto cut herself off mid-thought.

	`That's fifty-two by twelve, um, 624, double that -'

	`There's only about thirty thousand wizarding folk in Britain,' the
receptionist says, her hands clutched tight to her chest, `So he was trying to
kill _us_?  Why?'

	`Because he's crazy?  Because we're more of an immediate threat?
Because he hates wizards just as much as he hates muggles?  I don't know,'
Wren shrugged.

	`Oh, and the Chiurgeon is ready for Miss Carrow.  Mister Carrow can
have visitors, but don't tire him, and he's only allowed two at a time.'

	`Thank you,' Alecto told the receptionist.  She turned to Wren, `Could
you come with?' she blushed, and looked at her hands.

	Wren nodded, `I'll stick with you until she kicks me out, OK?'

	`Hold my hand?' Alecto asked in a small voice.

	`Fine.'
   
	-*-

	Wren watched, fascinated, as Alecto's back shifted and writhed, faint
popping noises occasionally sounding as the short, even shorter than Wren,
young witch's hump smoothed out.

	`Good, all of her bones are the right shape now, lets tighten up her
tendons and ligaments properly,' the old Chiurgeon, Elenora Halstead, talked
her way through the process, explaining to Wren and Alecto as she went, `This
may feel tense, but let me know if it hurts, dear.'

	`Yes'm,' Alecto agreed.  She squeezed Wren's hand hard when, with a
quiet grating noise, her back straightened out for the first time since she
was a child.

	`Good, good,' Elenora nodded, then bent down to look at Alecto from
the side before she walked around the table to look at her from the other
side, `Now we just need to shift your innards a little, because you're now a
different shape, and straighten your ribs a bit --'

	Alecto whimpered and clutched Wren's hand when her ribs and sternum
twisted inside her, bending into a slightly different shape.

	`I told you to tell me if it hurt, young witch,' Elenora complained.

	`It just felt,' Alecto shivered, `Real weird.  Didn't hurt, not
really, just weird.'

	Wren patted her hand.

	`Good, then lets roll you over, and have you sit up so I can get
another look.'

	Alecto twisted, brought her knees up, and shoved up with her free
hand, so she could drop her feet off the table and sit up without letting go
of Wren's hand.   She looked down her naked body and blinked, `Wow, boobies.
Nice looking boobies.'

	Wren smiled at her, `Yes, they are.'

	`Good,' Alecto pulled her in, wrapped her left hand in her hair, and
dragged her down for a kiss, wrapping her legs around the taller woman's
waist.

	Wren gently but firmly pulled free, not letting go of Alecto's hand.

	`Well,' Elenora smiled, a twinkle in her grey eyes, `It's good
to see Miss Carrow is feeling better.  I'd like you to stand and walk about a
little bit, just to make sure there aren't any profound alignment issues.'

	Wren helped Alecto off the table, and blinked, since the top of her
head still only came to about Wren's nose, `You're still pretty short,' she
said.

	`Pretty's fine,' Alecto said blithely.  She tried walking, staggered a
little, her balance completely changed, and clutched Wren's hand tighter as
she swayed.

	`Good, good,' Elenora positively beamed, her well-wrinkled face
alight, `Lets get you into a gown, and off to recovery until the anesthesia 
wears off.'

-*-

	Wren traced the line of Alecto's nose with a finger, looking down on
the sleeping witch, `I hope she doesn't want that changed,' she said softly.

	`She does have a very nice nose, doesn't she?' Elenora smiled at the
witches, `You don't have to pay for it if you don't want her to.'

	Wren shook her head, smiling, `I promised her pretty, so if she
doesn't like it, she can change it.  I just like hooked noses, so,' Wren
shrugged, and lead Elenora from the room, `I was wondering about some things.'

	`Feel free to ask, it isn't like I get much work anymore.'

	`It was five thousand galleons for the work, but,' Wren made a
helpless gesture, palm up, fingers spread, from her belly out, `You did two
people today, and you're not very tired at all.'

	`I know.  The Wizengamot sets the prices, and wonders why people can't
afford healing.  It used to be that the Ministry would pay for healing and
regeneration on Ministry employees, but they can't afford it anymore.'

	`So we're protecting the business of continental chiurgeons?'

	`There are no contininental chiurgeons, for the same reason I've not
got an apprentice -- it's a capitol crime to practice without a license, and
you need a board of three chiurgeons to license a new one.'

	Wren just stared, `So number three died in the Grendelwald kerfluffle,
number two priced himself to death, and left you holding the bag.'

	`Something like that, yes.'

	`I can pay for a few people, particularly if you promise to spend the
money.  I think I know a couple people who'd like to learn, too.'

	`Good luck with the Wizengamot,' Elenora looked at her hands, `I put
in a petition every year, and every year they ignore it.'

	`Due to certain coffin-sucking rich boys attacking me, I'm
_inordinately_ well-to-do right now.  I think I should be able to make the
point in a way they'll understand.'

	`I hope you can,' Elenora sighed, looking down at her hands, `It's
been a long time since they've done anything useful.'

	Wren gave her a hug, `I hope so too.'

9 December 1992

	Wren led the Carrows into the house, holding the door.

	`Wren!'  Harry called, waving from his place, trapped, in Bellatrix's
arms.

	Wren rushed, "scuttled," she thought, to collect him as soon as the
Carrows were in the door.

	She settled the boy on her padded hip, and watched the party.
Everyone greeted the two, and pampered them a bit.  Just about everyone
flirted gently with whichever of them was the appropriate sex, which Wren was
amused, but pleased, to note was both of them in most cases.  

	After watching Alecto duck her head and blush at something Andromeda
said, Wren shivered, turned to Harry, `Let's get you to bed, OK?'

	`Uh Uhn,' Harry shook his head to that, then yawned.

	`Yeah huh,' Wren told him, smiling.

	`Uh Uh,' Harry shook his head again.

	`When you've got your feet on the floor, you'll have a rat's chance of
saying when you're going to bed, kid,' Wren told him sweetly, heading for the
bathroom.

	`Fuck,' Harry said, smiling at his naughty behavior.  Wren laughed in
his face.

-*-

	Harry, as expected, crashed as soon as Wren tucked him in, his teeth
brushed and his face washed.  She returned to her bathroom, glared at the
mirror, and leaned on the sink.  The potion actually took care of the beard
quite well.  The witch at the beauty shop Narcissa recommended had fixed her
hairline nicely, de-emphasized the points of her jaw, and she rather liked her
cleft chin, all told.  It was still her face, just prettier.  Wren punched the
wall next to the mirror, the elves said it was easier to fix, hard.  And
again, the tiles cracking loose.  And again, the wooden lath giving way and
spilling tiles to rattle down the counter to the floor.

	Wren regarded her bleeding knuckles with black amusement, `And it
still doesn't make me feel any better.'  She licked at the blood, then sat in
the corner between the tub and the door to suck her fist and sulk.  She
managed to doze like that for a bit, only to be startled back to wakefullness
by a cute little dark-haired witch climbing into her lap.

	A half-smile curled her lip and a sigh escaped.  A cute dark-haired
little drunk witch.

	Alecto pulled back, eyes shiny, `I'm sorry-' she started.

	`No, it's not you,' Wren told her quickly, wrapped her arms about the
slighter form, `I seem to remember telling you I don't have sex with drunk
people.'

	`Oh, and you thought you'd be getting lucky?' Alecto's smile
reappeared, `And you were happy it was me?'

	Wren nodded, `I think you're very pretty.  You were cute before, but I
imagine this is more comfortable.'

	`Oh, much,' Alecto nodded, snuggled up against Wren's chest, `Your
boobies rustle.'

	`That's 'cause they're full of birdseed.'

	`Lemme see,' Alecto said, starting several minutes of playful fighting
as Alecto tried to either peer down Wren's shirt or pull it off entirely.

	After a bit Wren lost interest and let the drunk witch win.  She
raised her arms and let Alecto tug her shirt off, then crossed her arms,
hugging herself just under her bra.  She watched Alecto's hands, her face
guarded.

	Alecto smiled, cupped Wren's falsies in her hands, glanced up to see
the gobsmacked expression on her face, `You told us weeks ago that you were
born a boy, remember?'

	Wren looked her in the eyes, and nodded, confused.

	`I like you, as a person, I like you.  I don't like many people, I
don't like me, but I like you, and I like the me I see in your eyes.'

	Wren blinked, then pulled Alecto close and buried her face against the
witch's shoulder, whimpering and blinking, `Sorry,' she said.

	Alecto sighed, `Don't be,' she said, `I shouldn'ta gotten so sloshed,'
she kissed Wren's bare shoulder, `But I can try again when I'm sober, right?'

	Wren nodded, `I,' she paused, `Don't expect much success, but I'd love
it if you tried.'

	`You won't get angry with me, will you?'

	`I don't think so.'

	`Good,' Alecto shifted slightly so she could kiss at Wren's neck.

	Wren whimpered, stretched her neck out, and started crying softly into
Alecto's shoulder.

10 December 1992

	Wren woke, warm, comfortable, and stiff.  She shifted and conked her
head on the bathtub.  The instinctive reach and rub was stopped by the warm
witch sleeping against her, pressing her into the corner between the floor and
wall, an uncomforable folded sensation, and her arm was asleep underneath
Alecto somewhere.

	Wren tried to straighten her shoulders, a painful flex of muscle, then
scraped dark hair off her face with a pause to contemplate the color,  not
quite black, but a very dark brown with the occasional black strand.  She
shook her head and smiled.  She wiggled her fingers between the floor and
something soft.

	Alecto woke, smiling, `Nice,' she said, `I didn't drink too much.'

	`Oh?'

	`No hangover,' she shook her head, winced, `Well, not much of one, and
I remember falling asleep on the pretty blue-eyed witch I woke up on in the
morning, so I can't have drunk too much.'

	`My arm's quite asleep, so I unfortunately need it back.'

	`Oh?' Alecto grabbed and shifted, rolling them both onto her back, `Is
that better?' she smiled up at Wren, who blinked down at her stupidly,
goosebumps rising on her bare back in the chill air.

	`Somewhat,' she managed after about thirty seconds, then rolled them
again, so she was on the bottom, `This is good,' she said, then looked at her
watch, `Don't need to be up for a few hours, anyway.'

	`Good,' Alecto leaned in and kissed her, `I'm sober now, so . . . '

	`I must again warn you that I am not a woman of light virtue,' Wren
told her, then leaned up to kiss her, lips just barely open, sucking and
carressing gently.

19 December 1992

	`Ma'am?  Headmaster Dumbledore, Ma'am,' Dobby bobbed, his ears
flopping.  Wren sighed, pleased to have gotten at least that much restraint
out of him.

	`Thank you, Dobby, send him in,' Wren said, sitting next to Harry,
who was engaged in some sort of tea party with Nymphadora, involving mud-cakes
and a pale brown leaf-tea.  Wren took another sip of her tea, sure she'd had
worse, but unable to place where.

	`Miss Xom?' the tall white-haired man asked, when Dobby led him to the
side garden.

	Wren nodded, gestured to the other side of the rock Nymphadora was
using as a table, `Have a seat.'

	`I was wanting to talk to you about Harry,' he said, still standing.

	`Then sit,' Wren took another sip of her tea, `Have a cup of tea, it's
mostly elm with a bit of willow, it should be perfectly safe.'

	A discomfitted look flitted across his face, and he sat.  He took a
cup of tea, and sipped it gingerly.

	`So, what did you want to talk about Harry about?'

	`His mother,' he paused, glanced nervously at Wren, then continued,
`Lily, used blood magic to protect him.'

	`Yes,' Wren nodded, `We figured that out when we checked the house in
Goderick's Hollow.'

	`If he lives with his mother's blood-kin, we can tie that magic into
the ward structure, and protect him-'

	`I seem to be doing a fine job of that already,' Wren said, `One
insane power-hungry wizard is no trouble.  When that wizard has followers,
that's when there's problems.  We caught Pettigrew two days ago, so we seem to
be running low on coffin suckers.  I intend that when Runs-from-death returns
the wizarding world will be a lot safer.'

	`What do you mean, when Voldemort returns?'

	`Rookwood was an Unspeakable, did you know that?  And a coffin sucker.  
He told us about the prophesy, and Harry and I listened to it.  We can't
continue the way you've been going, in four hundred years the muggles have
gone from a deadly annoyance to a real extinction-level threat to the
wizarding world.'

	`And what do you intend to do about that?'

	`Well, I've got more money than just about anyone, so I'm going to
spread it around.  Gender equality, public libraries, physics, genetics,
chemistry, all of the useful muggle notions.'

	`Do you know anything about the explosion that destroyed Azkaban?'

	`It was a two-hundred kiloton fission weapon, from the footage there
was magic involved, and the one who looked like the queen had a funny accent.'

	`Look me in the eyes, girl.'

	`Look up, old man,' Dumbledore's face slackens a bit, `I've got three
people with rifles trained on you right now.  That's the lovely thing about
rifles, you see, you can train someone up from bare novice to deadly accurate,
accurate enough that you'd let them shoot within feet of your children, in
weeks.  Stay out of my head, you don't want to see inside of it.  I'd prefer
not to see inside of it, sometimes, but I can't do anything about that.'

	`I see,' Dumbledore sighed heavily, `How do you know you've gotten all
the Death Eaters?'

	`We turned a few, and used veratasium on all the ones we caught
alive,'  Wren shook her head, `If the muggles . . . muggles don't have
anything like it, and still muggle terrorists use a much more tightly celled
structure.  Every coffin sucker knew every other coffin sucker.  They even
knew who in the Ministry was bent.'

	`What?  Who?'

	`Crouch Junior,' Wren smiled, `The rest of them I'll keep an eye on.'

	Nymphadora took the wide-eyed look on Dumbledore's face for a cue,
and offered him a plate, `Mud-cake?  They're quite good.'

Winter Solstice, 1992

	Wren looked over her family, smiled crookedly, and settled Harry in
her lap, facing towards where, since she'd made sure the day before, the sun
would be coming up, the early morning sky already faded to grey.

	The Black girls are sitting next to each other, Bellatrix and
Andromeda framing Narcissa, Nymphadora in Bellatrix's lap, Ted holding
Andromeda's hand, with Draco in his lap.  The little boy blinked at Wren, and
smiled.

	Wren smiled back, let her eyes drift over the Lovegoods, stacked up
like chairs, with tiny baby Luna catching at her breath, chubby little hands
determined to catch the escaping mist.

	Alecto, Wren's smile turned into a grin for a moment, remembering, was
playing with Severus, poking her lightly and batting at her long hands
whenever she tried to retaliate.

	Amicus is sitting by himself, watching.

	A few of the henches are scattered over the lawn, but most of them,
and the minions, had other things to do than watch the sun rise over the snow.

	Wren picked the drum up off the blanket next to her, and started a
rather random "duum teka teka duum duum tek duum duum teka teka" a moment
before the sun rose over the horizon, and kept it up until it cleared the
ground.  She tapped out a final "teka teka tek" and set the drum down again,
`Hot chocolate, anyone?'

23 December 1992

	`So,' Wren looked over her minions, seated at the round table in the
batcave, and her henches, on the benches against the walls, `We pulled off a
great coup, but what next?  I don't want to nuke anything for a while, but we
need to do something to keep them off balance, keep up momentum.'

	`We could take over the wireless, and you could bitch at them?' one of
the henches, a dark haired young woman, proposed.

	`Sounds good, Sharon,' Wren agreed, `Any idea, no matter how stupid,
may have some use, so feel free.'

	`Print political crap in the Profit?  Without paying for it?'
Xenophilus, from his place with the henches, offered.

	`The Wizengamot's a circle-jerk, so we could,' pause, blush, `Play
with that?'

	Wren blinked, smiled, then fell out of her chair laughing.  After a
moment she picked herself up, and sat again, `What,' she said, `The idea of
them all coming too with their hands wrapped around each other's cocks doesn't
tickle?'

	Severus smiled, `When you put it that way, it does, but,' she
shivered, `Would you want to wake up with a fat old wizard's hand in your
pants?'

	Wren frowned, `Nope.  Hmm,' Wren drummed her fingers on the table a
moment, `We could put all the wizards in one ring, and the witches in
another?'

	`Still pretty "eww",' Celestia spread her hands on the table, `Some of
those old bats don't believe in soap, even if we can at least be sure they've
not got their hands on something too unfamiliar.'

	`Gloves would take care of that, and most diseases, but,' Poppy
shivers, `I know if I was a boy, I'd not want most of those old men pawing my
privates, even gloved.'

	`Strap-ons?' Wren asked.

	That served to utterly derail the rest of the meeting, which
eventually broke with a decision to resume after Yule and a promise by Wren to
order a "Good Vibrations" catalog.
 
Yule, 1992

	Nymphadora, Wren was amused to discover, woke earlier on yule morning
than she did.

	`Shh, kid, you'll wake your aunts,' she told the excited
seven-year-old, `Give me a minute and we can drink chocolate or tea or
something and think of something to do with the adults for not waking up
early enough.'

	`Wow!  Mama just told me to go back to sleep!' Nymphadora whispered
loudly, `You're the bestest grown-up ever.'

	`There's a reason, you see,' Wren took an exagerated look around, and
leaned closer to the girl, saying softly, `I've never grown up!  I tried to
stop at five foot two, but I overshot just a bit, so I'm five-four instead.'

	`But Alecto's a grownup, and you're taller than she is.'

	`We'll have to see about that,' Wren told her, `Now let me get dressed
a bit, and we'll go wake Alecto.'

	`I'll go get her up!' Nymphadora said eagerly.

	`I want to wake her up, but it's not proper to go harring off into
someone's room without at least trousers on.'

	`Oh,' Nymphadora looked down at her nightgown, `I'll see you there,'
she said, and hurried from the room.

	Wren blinked, then smiled.

	She found Nymphadora waiting impatiently outside Alecto's room when
she gets there, barefoot in BDU bottoms and a t-shirt, .45 at her hip.  A
smile quirked at the corner of her mouth, for the girl had a lurid pair of
purple pajama bottoms on under her nightgown.  She shushed the girl quietly,
then slipped Alecto's door open, pausing, `Hey, you feel this?'

	Nymphadora reached out.

	`Careful, if you press too hard you'll trigger it.  That's an alarm
spell, it's supposed to wake her up if anyone crosses it.  This one doesn't go
off if someone opens the door, I'm not sure why, but what else doesn't it do?'

	Nymphadora ran her hand up, then down, along the alarm spell, then
blinked, `It stops!'

	`Yep.  Does it start again?'

	`No, not all the way to the floor!' Nymphadora whispered excitedly.

	`So, I'll go first, and you can follow me.  Pull the door behind you
so it's not hanging open,' Wren told her, and crawled under the alarm spell.

	Nymphadora hurried after her.

	`Now, there's probably other spells, I've been trying to get her to be
more cautious, so feel carefully, OK?'

	`Right!'

	Wren stayed close to the floor, feeling in front of her for spells as
she went, and Nymphadora followed closely behind.  Once to the bed she rose,
trailed quiet fingers along the covers until she reached Alecto's nose, and
rubbed the line of it with gentle fingers.

	Nymphadora blinked and made a face.

	`Yes, it's kinda mushy,' Wren told her, `But mushy's nice when it's
happening to you, and you don't have to watch if you don't want to.'

	`Huh,' Nymphadora said, stumped by that response.  She wasn't sure if
she liked it better than "You'll understand when you're older," but it was a
little less annoying.

	`Are you going to keep stroking my nose all morning?' Alecto asked,
blinking a little.

	`Do you want me to?'

	`I think people would get suspicious,' Alecto managed a smile.

	`Oh?  Is it going to get long and hard?  Jet white stuff everywhere?'
Wren asked her.

	The young metamophamagus next to her blinked, pulling at her nose,
which did get longer.  She pushed it back to its normal shape for later
contemplation.

	Alecto giggled, `So why are you waking me up?'

	`'Cause Nym woke me up about half an hour ago, and we need to prove to
her that grown-up-ness is caused by growing too much,' Wren told her very
seriously.

	Alecto laughed, pulled her close, and kissed her soundly.

	Nymphadora turned away, and made exagerated comic wretching noises.

-*-

	Downstairs one of the henches poured hot chocolate for the three, and
Dobby, rather beside himself at the afront, was dragged into a game of
spades.

	`So,' Alecto looked at Wren, `I think I've got two.'

	Wren checked her cards again, frowned, and bid six for the pair of
them.

	This being the third hand, Dobby and Nymphadora had finally grasped
the game, decided with a few subtle gestures, and Nymphadora bid, `Ten.'

	Wren looks at Alecto, who shrugged and cut her eyes in a way Wren read
as `Not my fault.'

	Wren smiled back, and Dobby started off with the two of hearts.

	Fifteen seconds later Wren tapped that book square and dropped it in
front of her, checked her cards, and dropped the two of clubs, `I noticed that
you still haven't alarmed your door,' she asked Alecto.

	`I did,' Alecto smiled broadly, tossed the five of clubs onto Dobby's
four, `If anyone but you or my brother puts their hand on the doornob, it
wakes me, and sets the traps.  My brother gets a full-length alarm that will
wake me, and you get the half-length, so you can sneak in.'

	Wren collected the book, and Nym dropped an ace of diamonds.

	Wren tossed the two onto it, `What if they use a tool, or magic?'

	`It actually checks the door opening, which is probably why you missed
it,'

	`Nice,' Wren nodded, noticed it was her turn, and dropped the queen of
diamonds onto the jack.

	Dobby dropped a seven, and Wren collected the book.

-*-

	The boys make it down stairs about three hours later, still well
before the sun came up, and someone thought it would be a good idea to teach
them how to play exploding snap.

	It turned out to be a funny idea, maybe, but not really good.

	Wren was surprised that she managed to keep them contained until dawn,
despite Draco's habit of trying to get rid of cards as fast as he could, and
Harry's repeated attempts to hoard them until they blew up, which made him
laugh uproariously.  Wren noticed the time first, surprising her, and
interupted the game, which had lost several rules, `Well, the sun's should be
up in a moment, so let's go make sure it makes it up,' she said, `And then
it'll be time to wake the minions.'

	`Yay!' Harry bounced, shaking his cards so they'd go off.

	After the confetti scattered, they all trooped out to the garden, and
stood in the snow next to the faintly-steaming pond, watching as the awake
henches joined them.

	Wren was quite amused to hear someone drumming as the sun peeked over
the horizon, and turned to find one of the henches with a bodhran in her
hands.  The young witch blushed and smiled, and Wren turned back to the kids,
who were watching with some solemnity.

	As soon as the drumming stopped, Nymphadora dove, and emerged
half-soaked from the pond with a frog in her hands.  Harry's attempt was less
successful, but he climbed out happily.

	`Mama'll scream,' Nymphadora said proudly, clutching the poor
amphibian loosely, `And Daddy'll laugh.'

	She had that exactly backwards, but that might have been due to the
frog jumping out of her hands as she went to set it on her mother's face, and
landing on her father's.

	Wren snickered in a corner, and the only reason she didn't hide her
face in Alecto's shoulder is that Alecto was giggling and twitching, her face
already buried in Wren's bosom.  Harry was chasing the frog, which had bounded
off again and was hiding under a cabinet.

	Once the parents had been calmed, and the frog recaptured, the party
proceeded to the girl's room, to find them quite awake, much to Harry's
disappointment, and the frog's relief as it was released back into the pond
without further molestation.

-*-

	After the pond-divers had been changed, and breakfast eaten, attention
turned to presents.

	There was a massacre of wrapping paper and boxes, large ones, small
ones, and many strange things in stockings.

	Wren was annoyingly smug about her present choices -- Harry was still
walking around with the lump of nearly black nephrite she found, and
Nymphadora was still contemplating what to do with her refrigerator box,
drawing plans on the backside of scraps of wrapping paper as she plotted.
Sirius was wasting Polaroid film like it was going out of style.

	Sirius was annoyed that the toy brooms had proven less enthralling
than a rock and a stuffed frog, but otherwise was coping well when lunchtime
rolled around.  Then he noticed the kids were missing.

	`Not to be an alarmist, but have you seen the children recently?' he
asked.

	Wren laughed and nodded.

	`Where?' Alecto asked her.

	Wren smiled, and said `You,' being Sirius, `You,' being Alecto,
`Follow quietly,' in standard Army hand and arm signals.  That got a blink,
then a nod, as they remembered the meanings.

	Wren led them back into the living room, where Nymphadora had crashed,
after being up for nine hours on three hours sleep, in the bottom of her
refrigerator box.  She was curled up on her side, with Draco balled up in her
lap and Harry draped over her back.  Sirius managed to take a couple picutes
without waking the kids, and Wren gave him a thumbs up, rocking euphoricly on
her feet while Alecto huggled her.

	The children slept until nearly dinner time.  They woke up hungry as
the minions and henches began to arrive, along with their children and
significant others.

	Nymphadora came in, rubbing sleep from her eyes, hair a green that
matched Harry's jade, and promptly got into a fight with Evan Rosier.

	Wren watched, then when Evan had her pinned knelt next to her, `Are
you playing or are you fighting?'

	`Fighting,' Nymphadora answered.

	`Playing,' Evan answered at the same time.

	`OK, if you're fighting and he's playing, you should have won,' Wren
told Nymphadora.

	`But he's bigger and stronger than me,' Nymphadora whined.

	`Then you need to be meaner,' Wren looked the two over, `Where can you
hit him, and with what?'

	Nymphadora looked down her body, her wrists pinned under Evan's hands
and his knee on her belly.  She jerked forward, and he pulled back from the
attempted head butt.  After that she looked at Wren, who nodded, and jerked
her knee up hard into Evan's butt, pitching him forward and off, letting her
roll and tug her hands free, and she flopped onto his back.  A moment's
struggle, and she smashed his head against the floor, dazing him.

	`Now he's either given up, or he'll be fighting now.  Yep, here he
comes,' Wren warned, and Evan, still groggy, turned and clouted her firmly to
the side of the eye.

	Nymphadora shoved his head back hard, clouting it against the floor
again, then punched him in the throat with the other hand.

	`OK, that's it, fight's over,' Wren said then rolled Nymphadora off and,
with a brutally firm squeeze, popped Evan's trachea back out.

	Evan screamed, then whimpered.

	`Good, you're not gonna die, kid,' Wren told him, helping him up and
giving him a hug, `Let's get you a pain potion,' she looked to Poppy, who
nodded.

	Wren looked around at her minions and henches, who were looking at her
strangely, `I'da been better for having fought more as a kid, so,' she shrugs,
`So long as no one's permanently hurt.'

	`Oh,' Evan said, `I thought you didn't like me.'

	`Your old man was a murderer and a rapist.  That's not your fault, nor
your aunt's.  You seem like a good kid, so you get to put up with me mothering
you, OK?'

	`Hope it doesn't hurt this much,' he muttered.

	`Don't let little girls punch you in the throat and it shouldn't,'
Wren told him.  She turned to look at Nymphadora, who's hair had turned purple
with worry, `Good job, Nym, if this was a real fight you could have escaped or
made sure he died at that point.'

	`Died?' Nymphadora blinked.

	Wren nodded, `There's two types of good enemies, the ones that are
your friends and the ones that are dead.' 

New Years, 1993

	Wren clapped her hands in delight at the set of tympani someone had
found or conjured, and Harry laughed.  They sat near the pond, and after a
while Draco, laughing, came tearing up, trying to hide from his cousin behind
them.

	Nymphadora, her black eye faded to an ugly yellow, dove around them
and captured the young boy, dangling him by his ankle, using both hands to
hold him up.

	He yelled, screamed, and laughed, writhing and twisting, but not too
hard, she had dropped him earlier when he managed to kick her in the chin.

	When he started to turn more purple than red Wren spoke up, `OK, let
him go now.'

	Both of them pouted at that, but sat quietly, throwing snowballs at
each other.

	Alecto arrived, sitting between Wren and Nymphadora, a little before
the drumming started.

	The tympani were loud, but the cannon as the sun crested the horizon
was louder.

	Harry whimpered from under Wren, and Alecto blinked up at her in
shock.

	Wren pushed herself back to sit on her feet, hands on her knees
betweet the two, `Well, that was surprising.  Who's bright idea was that?'
Her blue eyes raked the gathered henches, including the three gathered around
the large brass cannon that had somehow appeared behind the tympani.

	`He did it!' all three claim, pointing one to the next in a circle.

	Wren frowned, glaring, then her lips twitched, eventually smiling,
then she chuckled, `OK, Summer solstice only for the cannon from now on, and
put it futher away.'

7 January 1993

	Wren looked up from the report, `So this man's obliviated just about
everyone in the neighborhood?  And he's a blood-relation to a lot of them?'

	`Of the younger ones,' the team chief nods.

	`Any time, and remind me if I don't,' Wren paused, and grabbed a piece
of paper, scrawling, "amend SOP to check for abuse/molestation/rape obl."
before turning back the the distraught young wizard, `You see something like
this, bring it to my attention.  I'll take care of it.'

-*-

	Wren glanced to either side, where Severus and Bellatrix stood,
flanking her a half-pace back, then at the camera op, who gave a thumbs up,
then announced, `Bring him in.'

	Elphreda brought the bruised and bleeding wizard in, his grey hair
matted on one side, dripping slowly onto his shoulder, `He resisted.'

	`Wash your hands, dear, you wouldn't want to catch anything from him.'

	Elphreda shoved him down, clamping the restraints about his arms, then
left, shaking slightly.

	`Severus.'

	She stepped forward, and dripped three droplets of clear fluid onto the
man's tongue, long fingers digging into his cheeks to force his mouth open.

	Once she was back in place Wren asked the prisoner, `What is your
name?'

	`I don't have to tell you,' the man tried, defiant.

	`No, you don't.  Bellatrix?'

	The man paled, and Bellatrix's voice whispered something hard and
fricative.  He screamed, sobbing, trying to curl into a ball.

	`What is your name?'

	`Claudius Fudge.'

	`How long have you been raping little girls and boys?'

	`I don't . . . they're compelled, they don't fight back at all,' he
said.

	`I suppose that means you don't have to heal them.  How long?'

	He blinks, `Since school,' he paused, tried to count on his fingers,
stopped, sobbing.

	`How long?'

	`Ninety years, I think,' he said.

	`Do you know how many of the little girls and little boys you've raped
are your children, grandchildren, or both?'

	`Most of them.'

	`Would you stop?'

	`Why?  They don't remember it.  I'm not doing anything any other
wizard wouldn't do.'

	`OK,' Wren concentrated, feeling the flow of magic, and walking
through the steps, leaving out the wand-waving, the red light, paring the
spell down to just, `Boom,' she said.

	The man slumped, without even a surprised look on his face.

	The red light on the camcorder died, and Wren slumped back against
Bellatrix, who cuddled her close.

	`I'll dispose of that,' Severus said, flicking the restraints open
with a wave of her wand, then levitating the corpse and stalking out with it.

	Wren twisted in Bellatrix's arms and burried her face against the
tall witch's belly, `How can people get away with shit like that?  What's
wrong with this fucking country?' she hissed.
 
15 January 1993

	`So Delores Umbridge, sorry, Warbeck, she got married before she
graduated, graduated, lived with her wife for almost three years, then her
parents obliviated her and made her believe she was a Slytherin instead of a
Hufflepuff, made her hate all near-humans, including her wife, and that her
name was Dolores, and reported Delores Warbeck dead?'  Wren looks at the team
chief who'd brought her the report, then the shattered middle-aged woman
crying in the arms of one of the other Obli's arms.

	He nods, `That was back in the twenties.  We managed to recover
everything from when she entered school until midway through her seventh year,
because they modified that, but she's missing from then until she woke up as
twenty-one year old Dolores Umbridge.  It's gone.'

	`How about her wife?'

	`She's a hag, so she should still be alive.  I wonder if she's related
to Celestina Warbeck?'

	Wren shuddered, `Perhaps.'  She straightened her shoulders, and walked
over to the victim.

	`Mrs. Warbeck?'

	Delores looked around, then up at Wren, and started crying again.

	`What is your wife's name?'

	`Mystra.  Mystra Warbeck.'

	`Do you have an address where we can try and find her?'

	`Her parent's address is all I remember, and I don't know if they're
still alive.'

	`We'll do our best to reunite you with your wife and children, Ma'am,'
Wren told her.

	`Children?' Delores asked, then cupped her hands over her belly,
whimpering.

	-*-

	Wren closed the door carefully behind her, and twitched violently,
`Fuck,' she said, succinctly, bitter and harsh, `Burning this country to the
ground would be too good for it.'	
	
30 January 1993

	Wren faced the camera, wearing Margaret Thatcher's body and a
name-tape that said "Nixon", and her minions stood around, again looking like
Princess Diana and labeled, this time, "Johnson."  Elizabeth checked with her,
then hit the record button.

	`Now, to start, I should probably claim that I am not a crook,' Wren
smiled, `But, by several measures and four or five different international
treaties, I am, so I'd be lying just like President Nixon was twenty years
ago.  You face,' The V.A. logo projected on the wall behind her changed,
shifting to footage from the recent debate, `A quandry, a choice between truth
and justice, or lies, bigotry, and evil.  As has often been the case in recent
American politics, lies, bigotry and evil seem to be winning.'

	The picture behind her went still, a greyscale photo of black and
white troops working together, `Forty-five years ago, a similar problem was
faced, and the president went against congress and the Army, and desegregated
the services.  That was six years,' the picture changed again, to footage from
Little Rock in 1954, as black students were escorted into school, `Before
Brown Versus Board of Education said that seperate was not equal.  The Army
said it would be bad for good order and discipline, that it would cause
problems, that it wouldn't work.'

	The background fades to olive drab, with a pie chart showing the US
military demographics, `And, as you can see, they were wrong.'

	The background goes pink, with Army, Navy, and Air Force logos, which
fade into numers, `The services discharge hundreds of people, most of them
with good NCOERs and OERs, every year, and for what?  Who they love in their
off time?'

	The numbers change, `Every year people die because someone decided
that they were gay, and because of that they have the right to kill them,' the
top, lowest, number bolds, then fades out, `Beat them so badly the have to be
hospitalized,' the next number, `Or just harrass and assault them,' the last
number.

	The background went black, `Forty-five years ago, the President stood
up for what was right.  Forty-five years ago, the President led the country,
and truth, justice, and the American way prevailed.'

	The black background faded into a map of Washington DC, centered on
the Washington Monument.   A red circle faded in, centered on the monument,
then a larger pink circle, then a very pale, almost white, irregular blob,
which extended up and down the Potomac, `Let truth and justice prevail.'

	The light goes out on the camera, and Wren looked to Elizabeth, who
nodded, `Thirty seconds on the dot.'

	`Good.  Let's make sure it's a good take, then we can dupe 'em and
dump 'em,' Wren leaned down to give the tiny woman a hug, smiling, `You're so
tiny like this.'

	`Alecto's smaller than I am,' Elizabeth laughed.

	`Not right now,' Alecto, tall, blonde, and smiling, said. 

2 Febuary 1993

	Harry squirmed in Wren's arms, and Wren squirmed in her seat on the
couch, `C-SPAN isn't supposed to be this much fun,' she whimpered, finally
letting the boy go.

	Some white-haired old man is ranting that they shouldn't have let
blacks in the Army if it was going to prompt terrorists to threaten them with
nuclear weapons, and at that Wren bolted off the couch, laughing hystericly,
and hid in the doorway to the room.  Alecto and Bellatrix, who'd watched
comedies with her before, paid the behavior no mind, but Severus and Elphreda
looked at her askance.

	Narcissa came out of the bathroom, slid past Wren, and sat down in
Bellatrix's lap, `Is this the same old man, or is it a different one?'

	`Oh, the last one was calling queers spawn of satan, and that they
should be identified at birth and drowned.'

	`Can they do that?'

	`They mis-identify babies' _mothers_,' Wren said, `And the only way
they can tell if an adult is queer is if they catch them or they're told, so,
no, not yet.'

	`That's good, then.'

	`For now.  I expect they'll figure that out in about thirty years, so
I want this to be old news by then,' Wren went silent, listening to the pretty
brown woman who'd taken the podium.

	`When a man is beating his wife, does it matter who tells him to stop?
Does it matter if it's the local crack dealer with a bat or a police officer
with a gun?  Truth is truth, no matter who speaks it.'

	Wren smiled, `And they'da come to some stupid compromise, and it would
take them another twenty years to get it right if they did.  This way they'll
go one way or the other, and I think they'll chose the right way.'

9 Febuary 1993

	Wren looked at the two small boys, Harry, bleeding but smiling, and
Draco, bleeding and sniffling, then sat down *thump* on the marble floor near
them.  `Who wants to tell me what happened?'

	Dobby looked up, wringing his hands, and Wren met his eyes with a
small shake of her head.

	Harry looked at her, steady, both pupils the same size, `I had my
rock, and Draco took it, and wouldn't give it back.  I told him, and I told
him, and I hit him, and he hit me with my rock, and I thought he broke it, and
I took it,' Harry sat down, too, crossed his legs, and tucked his green rock
between his body and his ankles.

	`Was that playing or fighting?'

	`Playing, but he wouldn't give it back, so,' Harry swung a fist.

	`Draco?' Wren asked, catching his eyes as well.

	`He told you,' Draco said sulkily.

	`Were you playing?'

	`Until he hit me.'

	`So you were fighting when you hit him with the rock?'

	`It was loud!  I thought I broke him,' Draco said, bawling anew.

	`Well, I'd say that maybe you shouldn't hit your friends with rocks,
then, huh?'

	`Maybe,' Draco said.

	`Now, did you have his rock because you wanted it, or because you knew
he wanted it?'

	`I wanted it.  I was playing with it.'

	`Did you tell him that?'

	`No,' Draco said, looking sheepish.

	`Try it,' Wren sighed, got to her feet, and reached out a hand to each
of them, `Let's get you out of the kitchen so we can clean you up and patch
any bleeding spots, OK?'

	`OK,' Harry got to his feet, his rock held firmly in hand, and reached
for Wren's right hand.  Draco grabbed her left, and she walked them from the
room.

-*-

	`Well?' Wren asked Poppy, once the children had been let free.

	`They're both fine, no lasting damage,' Poppy said, looking at Wren
rather askance.

	`Good.  I got there in time to hear Draco clout him with that rock.
It was loud out in the corridor, and Harry was worried Draco'd broken his rock
on his head,' Wren kicked her feet, looking up at the mediwitch, `I don't want
to make them stop fighting, 'cause I really think I'da been a much saner
person years ago if I'da fought more as a kid, but,' she shrugged, `I don't like
see'n 'em bleed, either.'

	`You could teach them some of the muggle ways of fighting -- the books
say those are as much about not fighting as fighting,' Poppy said, `Although I
don't know when you're supposed to start teaching them.'

	`What I've learned focuses on killing people, but actual martial arts
might be good for them,' Wren suddenly smiled, `All of them, actually -- we're
up to twelve kids amoung the minions and henches!  With that many kids I can
justify putting a teacher on retainer,' Wren hopped up and gave Poppy a hug,
`Thanks!'

	Poppy hugged her back, laughing, `Glad I could help.  I should get
back, though, potions is letting out, and Snape's probably scared some second
year into blowing up their cauldron.'

	`Severus?' Wren asked.

	Poppy nodded.

	`I think I'll come visit this school of yours sometime, if that'd be
OK?'

	`It should be fine.'

12 Febuary 1993

	`Hang onto anyone the Oblis catch,' Wren told Bellatrix, `Unless you
want to take care of them, but don't feel you have to, OK?'

	Bellatrix nodded, `Right.'

	Wren looked at her for a moment, trying to read the younger woman's
expression, then gave up, either she would have to deal with whatever rapists
or murderers the Oblis turned up or she would not, `You don't have to-' she
tried again.

	`You could barely walk after those six yesterday.  It would be nice if
they could be handed over to the ministry.'

	`Would you have wanted them back on the street yesterday?' Wren
shuddered, and shook her head, trying to force the knowledge out for a little
bit.

	`No, but I don't want you dying over it, either,' Bellatrix gathered
Wren into a hug, `Go to Hogwarts, have fun, hassle the students, OK?'

	`Right,' Wren pulled back with a smile, `You used OK.'

	`I did not.'

	Wren just smiled at her and shook her head.

	`Winky, Dobby!' she said firmly, once Bellatrix had looked away.

	`Yes'm?' Dobby said, bouncing lightly on his toes.

	Winky just curtsied.

	`I'm not taking the little ones to Hogwarts, so if they get into
anything, come get me there, OK?'

	`Of course!' Dobby exclaimed, nodding hard.

	`As you wish,' Winky said, still looking down.

	`Winky,' Wren dropped to one knee in front of the elves, `You are not
at fault for what your humans did.'

	`But Winky helped!'

	`Since you get paid now, if I tell you to do something you don't want
to do, what can you do about it?'

	`I can leave, or I can quit, or I can tell you no.'

	`Could you tell mister Crouch or young mister Crouch no?'

	`No,' Winky shook her head, `But . . . '

	`It's OK,' Wren dropped a hand on Winky's shoulder, `Do a good job,
and do what's right.  No one should ask anything more from you.'

	Wren stood, and raised agrieved eyes at Bellatrix, who gave her a hug
for them.  Once the elves had left the room she allowed herself a sigh, `It's
not so bad the first three times you tell them.'

	`Some people aren't smart enough to pretend to be OK around you,'
Bellatrix said.

	Wren pulled back and stared up, her hands on Bellatrix's shoulders,
`Trixie,' she said, after several moments, `That's not funny.'

	`But it's true,' she gave Wren a kiss on the forehead, `Alecto beat
several of the henches and two of the minions up to secure her right to
apparate you to Hogsmeade, so you'd better go find her.'

	`She'd better not have,' Wren said, laughing, `That's my job.'

	She still gave Bellatrix a look on the way out the door, pondering.

-*-

	Hogsmeade was small, quaint, and tiny.  About three blocks wide and
twelve, Wren counted, long, with about twelve houses per block.  The main,
cobblestone, drag, such as it was, had shops on the lower floors, and what
looked to be apartments above.  Three of the buildings were three stories
tall, and one four.  Everything was dingy, and several of the buildings
bordered vacant lots, black soot still trailed up their sides.

	`Concrete can be ugly,' Wren said, `But it doesn't burn for shit.'

	`That Gaudy guy you like used a lot of concrete,' Alecto answered her,
`And his stuff's really pretty.'

	Wren hugged her one handed and nuzzled her shoulder, `Yep.  That's why
I said "can."'

	Halfway up the street she paused to kick a cobble back to its spot and
stomp on it a bit until it settled, `Now stay,' she told it.  After a moments
glaring she held out her hand, and Alecto took it, leading them on towards
Hogwarts.

	At the gates Wren paused, wrinkled her nose, and squinted through her
glasses, then stepped back, cocked her head sideways, and smiled in utter
delight, `That's just utterly sick and twisted,' she said, grinning so broadly
her teeth showed.

	`What?' Alecto asked, taking in the utterly normal sight of Hogwarts,
in its overwrought crenellated glory.

	`I think it's 'cause I don't have much magic, but if I squint, or look
too quickly, or cock my head just right there's this desire to go clean my
sink,' she laughed, `Which even I'm not quite neurotic enough to need to do
right now--'

	Alecto laughed, having seen Wren's odd compulsion to clean any dirty
sink by the third or fourth time she saw it.

	`And it turns into a lovely ruin, complete with keep out signs that
are just utterly _tempting_,' Wren smiled, `But just for a moment, and then
the wards figure out I'm not a muggle, and hide it again,' Wren clapped her
hands, bouncing on her toes, `I've got to learn how to do that.'

	Alecto just looked at her, smiling, `Just like you need to learn how
to make flying things fly.'

	`Oh, right, right,' Wren pulled a little green-covered pad of paper
out of her pocket, scrawled several notes with a ball-point pen, then returned
both.  That done, she turned and started walking backwards up the path, `Are
you coming?'

-*-
	

	


	 
---
log:
2007/Aug/2:	Reading too much HP fic, and Rorschach's Blot's more-sane
		Shinji story, and feeling maudlin.  So I wrote the first bits
		of this.
2007/Aug/11:	Wrote some more over the last week.  Backed up to my server.
2007/Aug/19:	More.
2007/Aug/20:	More, and, typical me, the chapters seem to be growing.
2007/Aug/21:	Definately growing.
2007/Aug/26:	A bit more, but slowly
2007/Aug/28:	more, less slowly.
2007/Aug/30:	More.
2007/Sep/21:	More.  Oh, and a Galleon is worth about $100 U.S. (Gold, as of
		Nov 2007, is $865 an _ounce_.  In the early 90s, it was $350
		or so.  No way is a decent-sized gold coin going to be worth
		$10)
2007/Sep/23:	More.
2007/Oct/25:	More.  The Dumbledore confrontation is too over-the-top and
		overt, but I'm not sure how to fix it.
2007/Nov/18:	More.  Toned down the Dumbledore a bit.  Need to make myself
		lists of Minions and henches.  And I'll take suggestions for
		V.A. attacks, if anyone's got any.
2007/Nov/19:	More.
2007/Nov/20:	Just a bit more.
2007/Nov/22:	A bit more.  I've more to go of their Yule celebrations, so
		that should be written soonish.
2007/Nov/23:	Looked up the rules to Spades, -- normally both cards and deal
		are passed clockwise.  Wren's either forgotten or decided to
		change it, so cards are going clockwise and the deal is going
		counter-clock.
2007/Nov/26:	typed up very little over the last few days.  Some editing.
2007/Nov/27:	A bit more, finally back in 1993
2007/Dec/1:	More.  Beginning of Feb '93.  Fixed at the Nixon date.
2007/Dec/2:	More, actually.  Rather surprised.