#beyond hogwarts

x~x~x~x~x

Rita Skeeter had come to Hogwarts not long after the whole fiasco with R went down in the summer of 1990. She was determined to learn as much as she could about both Jacob and Carewyn Cromwell -- perhaps the newly reappeared Olivia Green too -- and maybe even drag Dumbledore a bit in the process.

Rita decided to take the sneaky approach first and flew over to Hogsmeade as a beetle to scope things out. Most unfortunately, when she found Jacob in the Three Broomsticks, he sensed her approach so easily that before she could even land on him, he'd smacked her so hard off of him that she was slammed back-first into the closest wall.

When Jacob turned around and saw not a person but a bug nearly flattened against the wall, he blinked twice. Then his blue eyes narrowed.

"Hey, Cromwell!" one of the servers called from the far end. "Can you bus this table real quick for me?"

"Be right there!"

Flapping the dish rag he'd been holding up onto his shoulder, he strode past the wall, his sunken-in eyes glaring daggers into the little green beetle as she feebly flapped her wings to keep herself airborne.

"Can't perfectly read your mind while you're a bug," Jacob muttered under his breath, "but trust me, I'll do it much better if I collide with you when you're human. And I reckon I'll know within seconds it's you."

A dangerous flash ran through his eyes.

"Any of that scare you? Then buzz off and never come back."

Rita didn't think twice: she immediately hightailed it out of there, zooming in precarious little waves straight out of Hogsmeade village.

The reporter had to take two weeks off to tend to her broken arms, sprained shoulder, and dislocated back in St. Mungo's. Even after her recovery, though, no matter how much she longed to get back at Jacob Cromwell, she stayed far, far away from him.

x~x~x~x~x

Now one would think that after Jacob left London, Rita might pounce on the opportunity to get her story by going through Carewyn. And yes, in fact, she did.

When Rita learned Carewyn had been assigned to be the prosecutor in the case against Dolores Umbridge's new measure restricting werewolf employment, the reporter thought she smelled blood in the water. After all, Carewyn had become known as a "Hero of Hogwarts"...now she was defending dangerous Dark creatures at the expense of the public's safety? Was this emblematic of a fall from grace, signaled by her surrendering herself to the machinations of a Ministry who needed a willing pawn to play devil's advocate? Or worse, was there some more sinister reason Carewyn Cromwell was siding with the likes of Fenrir Greyback and his ilk?

Learning her mistake from her encounter with Jacob, Rita tried to meet Carewyn in person first. After all, she'd met Carewyn once before, while she was a student -- she could always play to that. Even if Carewyn had seemed leery of her back then too, she had stayed cordial, and she did ultimately tell Rita a little of what she wanted to know, at least.

Most unfortunately for Rita, this encounter with Carewyn did not go any better than hers with Jacob four years ago. As soon as Rita approached her, attempting amiability, Carewyn held up a hand and stopped the reporter mid-word.

"No comment."

She turned and walked away. Rita of course wasn't going to give up that easily, and she immediately bustled after her.

"Oh, come on, Carewyn...all I even said was 'hello!' I haven't even asked any questions yet -- "

"You don't need to. I know full well you intend to ask me about the next case I'll be presenting before the Wizengamot, preferably to try to sniff out whether I'm some corrupted soul, same as my grandfather, or whether I've become a mindless cog in some corrupt Ministry conspiracy."

Rita was so taken aback by the accuracy of the guess that she for a moment lost her composure. Then she forced on a sugary-sweet smile.

"...Well! Carewyn! Sounds like you're even more determined to stir up drama than I am...is this an admission on your part, or -- ?"

"Bear in mind, Ms. Skeeter," Carewyn said very coldly without turning around, "that a talent for Legilimency is hereditary in my family."

Rita's smile slid right off her face as she blanched.

Wait -- did that mean that she -- like Jacob Cromwell -- ?!

"Oh, so you've already encountered that talent. Through my brother." Carewyn's blue eye had migrated over her shoulder after she'd spoken last, and it glinted icily even as she smiled. "Good. Then I can keep this short and sweet: stay away from my family."

With this, Carewyn walked off again. This time Rita did not pursue -- in fact she very quickly turned around and left the Ministry all together, fixing her overly stylized blond curls over and over as she tried in vain not to scream in both anxiety and aggravation.

x~x~x~x~x

Her encounters with Jacob and Carewyn Cromwell spooked Rita to the point that she decided she wouldn't seek them out. It frustrated Rita immensely, because she frankly hated that both of them had so successfully gotten under her skin and she couldn't pay them back for it -- not even by going after their mother, however tempting the thought was...who knew what sort of juicy stuff she could dig up on the black-sheep third daughter of Dark wizard Charles Cromwell? After all, it was said Lane ran away from home to marry a Muggle, but where was that Muggle now? Why wasn't he in Carewyn and Jacob's lives? Had Charles Cromwell done away with him, out of disgust...or had Lane or her children done it, so no one would ask questions...?

For her own self-preservation, though, Rita knew she had no choice but to back off. Jacob Cromwell would likely immediately recognize her as the beetle in Hogsmeade if she ever met him in person, and Carewyn...if that little girl was so good at Legilimency that merely looking in Rita's eyes told her both the subjects she was considering for her article and that she'd already seen Jacob's Legilimency in action, she could very quickly discover Rita was an illegal Animagus, if she looked in her eyes again. And because Carewyn was a lawyer...

Rita had thrown several bottles of ink at the wall, just contemplating how much of a disaster Carewyn Cromwell finding out the truth could be for her.

She had to distract herself. Sure, she couldn't go after Carewyn or Jacob, but there were other fish in the sea. There were plenty of other people's lives Rita could ruin. And for a while, she did -- she referred to Albus Dumbledore as an obsolete dingbat in her article about the International Confederation of Wizard's Conference; she wrote a scathing piece about Cornelius Fudge and the Quidditch World Cup; and then, best of all, she set her sights on the Boy Who Lived Himself, who proved to be a perfect fountain of drama that she could cultivate. The headlines Potter gave Rita put her in such a good mood that she was more flippant in going after other people associated with the Triwizard Tournament: Rubeus Hagrid, Viktor Krum, and Harry Potter's "girlfriend" Hermione Granger.

But then Rita actually tried to go after Ludo Bagman by showing up to his workplace as a beetle. And the moment that Rita flew into Bagman's office and landed on his desk, ready to do some snooping, she was frightened by the sound of the door slamming shut behind her.

The beetle quickly flew under a magazine on the desk to hide before she could be spotted.

"Muffliato," said a familiar voice.

It was Carewyn Cromwell.

Her heart pounding with absolute terror, the little beetle peeked out from her hiding place.

Although the red-haired lawyer's blue eyes weren't focused directly on Rita, her wand was raised and her posture was guarded. She was quiet for a very long moment, her eyes drifting around and over the desk; then she spoke to the fat air.

"No one will hear us now," she said stridently. "The Charm I cast over the room deadens all sound to prevent eavesdropping, and even if Mr. Bagman does come back, I have the clearance to be here. Something I know full well you don't have, Rita Skeeter."

Rita felt like her heart had leapt up into her throat. The flash of fear clearly caught Carewyn's attention, as her cold eyes shot straight to the desk.

"I may not know exactly how you're hiding so well," she murmured. "Whether you've shrunken yourself down, pilfered a particularly good Invisibility Cloak, or you're an illegal Animagus. The last one would definitely explain why your emotions are a bit harder to read...unless you're actually trying to use some basic Occlumency."

Rita was frozen stock-still with terror as Carewyn leaned her hand on the desk, her voice growing much quieter and more dangerous.

"Either way, though...trespassing in a high-ranked Ministry employee's office is a serious offense. I daresay the Daily Prophet would be much more reluctant to publish your articles if they knew you were using such illicit means to get information. No matter how juicy your stories are, you are not above the law, Skeeter."

Carewyn's blue eyes flashed almost as dangerously as her brother's.

"So let me make myself clear. You will not attempt to sneak into the Ministry again. Come as yourself again if you want...but know that if I find out you're here, I will check in on you. And if you use this sneaky little method of getting around to write a single article about any of my coworkers the way you wrote about Hagrid...rest assured, I will administer swift, efficient justice to you."

There was a silence. Rita felt close to fainting as Carewyn put a sealed envelope on Bagman's desk and then turned on her heel to head for the door.

"Don't stay long after I open this door," she said coolly. "I won't chase you down...but I'll only be on this floor for a few more minutes, and I expect to sense the exact moment you choose to leave."

She left the door open as she went. Because Carewyn didn't have super-sonic hearing, she never heard just how loudly, angrily, and anxiously Rita the beetle screamed as she flew out of the office and out of the Ministry altogether.

Rita Skeeter hated Legilimency.

Jacob arrived slightly late to the meeting. When he strolled in, he already found Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting at the far left end, with Arthur, Severus Snape, and Mad-Eye Moody sitting on the right. Molly was currently standing since she was clearing some dishes: at the sight of Jacob, she tried to greet him warmly.

"Oh, Jacob, dear...glad you made it. Here — I set aside a plate for you...be sure to eat it before it gets cold — "

"Thanks," Jacob said a bit uncomfortably, "but Pip already stuffed me full of waffles before I left the Ministry." Sensing Molly was going to argue, he cut her off by saying, "I'll eat it for supper later. Thank you."

To make his point, he even conjured up some tinfoil and magically wrapped it around the plate.

Molly reluctantly accepted this and went back to clearing the rest of the table. Jacob sidled into the seat on the other side of Sirius: the older man gave him a small smirk.

"So? Anything exciting happen at the Ministry today?"

"Besides bumping into old Lucius Malfoy downstairs again?" said Jacob. "Sadly no. Couldn't even get away with threatening his Death Eater arse too badly, let alone give him the curse to the face he deserved."

Sirius snorted. "At least you were able to do more than clean up hippogriff spit-up today. Though I did leave the bit on my dear old mum's frame: I reckoned it adds character."

"Matches her charming personality," Jacob said sarcastically as he and Sirius exchanged rather wicked smirks.

"You said you saw Lucius Malfoy, Jacob?" Arthur took interest at once.

Jacob turned to the Weasley patriarch with a more serious expression. "...Yeah. He claimed he was there to meet with Fudge after the Wizengamot had finished meeting, but I knew that was bull…Pip told me Fudge has had to skip out on his usual Wizengamot duties thanks to how much old Umbitch has been monopolizing his time.”

Lupin’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Really?”

He glanced at Snape, who had likewise cocked his brows, but far more cynically.

“Our new Headmistress,” the word left the Potionsmaster’s lips with notable disdain, “has sought out some assistance in punishing student misbehaviors. I gather from Minerva that the only reason your sons didn’t get expelled and then subsequently arrested on trumped-up charges of unlawful magic earlier today,” his black eyes flitted over to Arthur and Molly, who both shot up straight-backed, “is that Cromwell’s sister shot down the feasibility of Umbridge’s entire legal argument.”

The Weasleys both gave a shared exhale of relief, Arthur giving Molly’s hand on his shoulder a tight squeeze. Jacob leaned back in his chair with his arms resting behind his curly head, looking incredibly proud.

“That’s our Carey!” said Tonks with a huge grin at both Jacob and Moody. The grizzled ex-Auror nodded.

“Your boys were lucky, Arthur,” he said gruffly. “Hopefully they’ll use their new-found independence to help the cause in more ways than just shooting off magic sparklers.”

He then turned to the others assembled.

“This actually leads into the subject of our meeting nicely. With Professor Dumbledore now having to stay under the radar for a while, we will need to ensure the safety of both Potter and the Hall of Prophecies more than ever.”

Sirius’s gray eyes immediately flashed at Snape.

“Right. Which reminds me, Snape — care to explain to everybody why you put an end to Harry’s lessons?”

The rest of the table gave a start. Lupin shot Sirius an extremely aggravated look: clearly he had not wanted Sirius to come at the issue this aggressively. Snape himself only gave the slightest flicker of a reaction: a chilling of his usual stoic expression.

“Potter has learned more than enough in his lessons with me,” he said very icily. “I see no need to put further effort into a boy too lazy to practice.”

“Severus,” said Molly, her brow creasing with immense disapproval, “Professor Dumbledore said it was essential that Harry learn Occlumency! Harry is a good student…I’m sure if he’s having trouble with the material, there must be another approach — ”

“Occlumency is not a complex concept,” Snape said dully. “Both Cromwells studied Occlumency with me, and they both got farther in one week than Potter has gotten in months…and this is even while both of them were obnoxiously over-emotional children.” His eyes flitted briefly toward Jacob, who only shrugged amusedly. “The younger Cromwell was even the same age exactly as Potter is now, come to think of it.”

“Yeah…but even Carey told me once she’s better at Legilimency than Occlumency,” Tonks interjected. “She said that Occlumency involves a lot of compartmentalizing and depersonalization — forcing yourself not to feel, even when you feel really deeply. I could see Harry having trouble with that…I probably would too!”

“Of course Pip finds Legilimency easier — she’s been doing it subconsciously since she was a baby,” said Jacob. “Both of us were born with that potential. But Snape does have a point: Occlumency requires regular practice to master. It’s like learning how to sing. If Potter isn’t practicing the techniques on his own or warming up beforehand, then he won’t amount to much.”

“But Harry was also not born with the natural talent for mind-related magic that you and Carewyn were,” Lupin reproached Jacob gently. “No student can successfully practice something they haven’t mastered under a teacher’s tutelage first…” He glanced at Snape with a much harder expression. “And regardless of what you feel about Harry on a personal level, Severus, Professor Dumbledore impressed upon all of us the importance of him learning Occlumency…you more than anyone.”

“The way I carry out my orders is for me alone to determine, Lupin,” Snape shot back. “I will not teach a student too lazy and arrogant to put in the work needed to succeed. Perhaps if Potter comes back to me ready to actually follow instructions, then a compromise can be reached. If Potter is unwilling to register the seriousness of the matter and put in the work needed to keep the Dark Lord from his mind, then on his head be it.”

“The problem with that is that it would not be just on Potter’s head, but on all of ours, Snape,” Moody growled. “Lest we forget that Potter has heard plenty of things that Voldemort would find very, very useful…about all of us.”

The table went silent. Moody’s magical blue eye swiveled over all of them before landing on Snape again.

“You will follow Dumbledore’s orders, Snape — as all of us will. And anyone with a tie to Potter,” he shot a beady eye at both Sirius and Lupin in particular, “must be ready to convince him to do the same. Dumbledore wants Potter to learn Occlumency. That sadly requires both a willing teacher and student.”

“Remus and I have already told Harry he needs to learn Occlumency, Mad-Eye,” said Sirius. His fists were balled up on the table in frustration. “We’ve told him there’s nothing more important. Harry’s a smart kid — he knows it’s not good that Voldemort can see his thoughts. But he can’t be expected to learn a damn thing from an insecure prat who's determined to treat him like rubbish — ”

“Sirius — ” Lupin tried to urge caution, but Snape interrupted.

“What I'm doing is refusing to coddle him the way you and Lupin always have, Black. Potter has been shown more than enough favoritism, same as his father, and rest assured, the Dark Lord will show him none of it.”

“Favoritism?” Tonks repeated with an incredulous smile. “Like what, getting thrown off your Quidditch team for no reason, being banned from Hogsmeade, and having your hand cut open on the daily just because some sadistic old cat-lady hates you? Come off it, Snape!”

“Just because You-Know-Who will treat Harry badly doesn’t mean we should,” said Arthur. Although Lupin failed to completely bite back a smile at Tonks's words, Arthur remained completely serious. “Molly was right before, Severus: there has to be a better approach. Maybe you and Jacob could teach Harry together? You seem to know a lot about the subject, Jacob — ”

Jacob burst out laughing. “What, you think Snape here would allow me in his classroom any more than I already have been? Sorry, Arthur — not happening.”

“Even if I hated myself enough to elicit support in my lessons from the likes of Jacob Cromwell,” Snape said through a cold leer, “Dolores Umbridge detests Carewyn, only slightly less than the other way around. She would sooner hire a werewolf to teach classes before taking on her brother.”

Snape sneered at Lupin. Although Lupin didn’t rise to the bait, Sirius did.

"Don't take pot shots at professors who earned more esteem and respect from their students and coworkers in a single year than you got in fifteen, Snivallus -- "

"We are getting off-topic," Moody shut this down tersely.

"Yes," said Molly, her eyes flitting reproachfully between both Sirius and Snape. "I believe we've had quite enough squabbling. We're here to do what Professor Dumbledore has told us to do...to determine how best to protect Harry from You-Know-Who."

"Seems to me that might be part of the problem."

Everyone looked at Jacob in surprise and confusion. Jacob leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"What?" said Molly, startled.

"Doing what Dumbledore told us to do," Jacob said in a very matter-of-fact sort of voice. "We're assuming that that's synonymous with keeping Potter and everyone else safe, when it's not."

Everyone at the table looked unsettled by this.

"Jacob..." started Lupin, but Jacob cut him off.

"Dumbledore's wanted to keep this whole prophecy thing secret from Potter from the beginning. But old Dumble's not at Hogwarts now -- he can't take care of the school or any of its students, let alone Potter. And if Potter hasn't been practicing Occlumency regularly, that puts him at more risk than ever. We can't keep this from him anymore: he needs to know the extent of the danger he's in — "

"No!" Molly interjected, her voice betraying a higher pitch of both righteous anger and anxiety.

"Dumbledore explicitly ordered that Harry would not be told, Jacob," said Arthur in a sterner-sounding voice. "It's too dangerous."

"More dangerous than the kid walking around blindly?" Jacob argued. "Be serious. The only support from the Order that Potter's got left at school are Snape, McGonagall, and Hagrid...and forgive me if I don't expect Hagrid will be spared from Umbridge's reign of terror much longer. Therefore you," he glanced at Snape, "and McGonagall are the only ones left who can tell Potter the truth he needs to protect himself."

"What Potter needs to protect himself is to do what Dumbledore instructed him to do and properly learn Occlumency," Moody said sharply. "Only then can we ensure Voldemort has no eye into our affairs. Anything any of us might tell Potter could be easily intercepted by Voldemort, if he doesn't learn to shut him out."

"Aren't you usually the one crowing about 'constant vigilance?'" Jacob challenged him without backing down in the slightest. "How the hell can Potter be vigilant in protecting himself if he doesn't know what Lord Moldy Shorts is up to?"

"Jacob has a point, Mad-Eye," Tonks said in a bracing sort of voice. "I'm no expert in Divination or anything...but well, if the prophecy we've been guarding is about Harry and You-Know-Who, maybe there is some value to Harry learning what's in it. Then maybe Harry would know enough to counteract it, or..."

"Bear in mind that in arguing for Potter to be told of the prophecy, you are deigning to insinuate that you're a wiser person and mage than Albus Dumbledore," Snape murmured coldly.

Tonks faltered. Jacob, however, did not.

"In this situation? Yeah, I reckon so."

Arthur's brows came together reproachfully. "Jacob..."

"Maybe you all have forgotten this," Jacob spoke much more coldly than before, "but when I was at school, I got roped into marching to my psychotic grandfather's drum against my will, and that resulted in the oh-so-wise Albus Dumbledore expelling me, rather than doing anything useful to help my friends, my family, or me."

His skull-like blue eyes flashed with contempt upon Snape.

"I know full well what it's like being a little teenage puppet yanked around on strings by some evil old geezer with no idea why or any real control over my life. And you damn well know my sister knows that feeling too, Snape, given you were her Head of House -- thanks in no small part to Dumbledore deciding not to tell her anything about what happened to Olivia, Ashe, or me."

"Don't blame Dumbledore alone for that, Cromwell," said Snape, "you kept more from your sister and mother than he ever did."

Jacob bared his teeth a bit. "Maybe...but I actually figured out how wrong I was to keep secrets from the people I care about and am trying to do better. Something old Dumb-Dumb hasn't bothered to do."

The ex-Ravenclaw looked from Sirius and Lupin to Tonks, seeking support.

"I know everyone at this table wants to protect Potter...but knowledge is power. Knowledge is protection. So what if Voldemort finds out Potter and we know what he's up to? What harm could that really cause? But what if the opposite happens? What if, while Potter is not using Occlumency successfully, Voldemort gets into his head the way we fear and uses what he finds against Potter? Uses it to get him alone, outside of school, and there's no way we can get there in time to help him? No one can fight off an advance properly without knowing who their enemy is. So it was when Carewyn, the Circle of Khanna, and I fought R, so it is now that we're fighting Voldemort."

Tonks opened her mouth to say something, but Lupin spoke first.

"Jacob, I understand Harry's situation has a lot of parallels to yours and Carewyn's. But we don't know the contents of the prophecy — Dumbledore does. And as much as you might not trust Dumbledore, we all do. If he doesn't believe Harry is ready to know its contents, we must respect that."

"No, we don't — " Jacob argued, but Moody had heard enough.

"Jacob, you chose to join the Order of the Phoenix after correctly assessing that it was better to fight Voldemort's rise together than hold onto old grudges. Your sister has been balancing much more precariously on the edge by refusing to properly join and fight the way she should, but at least she's not suggesting contradicting her direct superior's orders. Albus Dumbledore may not be able to be physically here at this moment, but he is still the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and it behooves us to stay in ranks until he returns to Hogwarts. And judging by the fact that no Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has lasted for more than a year in ages..." Moody smirked, "...my Death Eater replacement included...I have more than enough faith Umbridge will be on her way out quite soon."

Jacob looked disgusted. "So you'll just cross your fingers and pray Voldemort ignores how easy it is to get into Potter's head? Even if Hogwarts does retain all of his protective charms after his departure...you really think Voldemort won't take advantage of the fact that Dumbledore's not there to try anything?!"

"No, we will do what we can to restart the lessons Dumbledore ordered Potter should take," Moody said harshly. “And we will keep a closer eye on both Potter and the Hall of Prophecies, to ensure the first doesn’t seek out the second.”

He shot a look at Sirius. "Considering Potter seems to have some secretive way of getting in touch with you enough to still tell you things, Sirius, I'll leave it to you to convince him...in whatever way Dumbledore would most approve of," he added pointedly. "After all, you do always seem to be itching to do something useful for the Order. This is your chance."

Sirius frowned deeply as Moody turned to Snape.

"And as soon as Potter comes back to you, Snape, I expect you to stop using your lessons as an excuse to mistreat him. Just because Carewyn Cromwell was stoic enough to tolerate your teaching style without complaint doesn't mean everyone else is going to be. Adapt your teaching style to the student you've got. That's even something a mentor in the Auror Department learns how to do, I'm sure a long-tenured professor like you can figure it out."

Snape regarded Moody with visible contempt, but didn't argue the point. Jacob had slouched back in his chair, his hand resting over his mouth as he stared in aggravation up at Moody. The ex-Auror met his gaze head-on without blinking.

"This meeting is adjourned," he said. "We'll be in touch."

One by one the table's occupants left. Jacob didn't get up until after Snape, Arthur, Molly, Lupin, and Tonks had already left; when he did, both of Moody's eyes, crazy blue and normal brown, went to him like a shot.

"Jacob," he said, "I know you and your sister have a lot of resentment still for Albus Dumbledore. But I also know that you both know how much bigger this is than that. We must be vigilant: we can't afford to have dissolution in our ranks. The Death Eaters are not going to break ranks...they'll follow Voldemort until either he wins or he falls, without question. If we don't do the same, they'll pick us apart until there's no one left."

"Not exactly inspiring me to want to not break ranks, Mad-Eye, if it means I'll be acting just like old Voldie's gang of yes-men," Jacob muttered coldly.

He got up from his chair. When he made as if to go, though, Moody actually tried to grab his shoulder — Jacob, however, sensed the move before Moody made it with his Legilimency, and he dodged him with a glare. Amazingly this seemed to make the slightest wry smile flicker over the ex-Auror's face before he then became more serious again.

"Don't do anything reckless, Jacob," Moody whispered. "This whole situation is not something that could be explained succinctly...especially when we don't know the vast majority of what the situation is, to begin with."

His brown eye actually narrowed a bit more solemnly.

"Remember yourself, at that age. If all someone told you was that there was a prophecy with your name on it at the Department of Mysteries, are you sure you wouldn't immediately barrel into danger to try to figure out what it said?"

Jacob stared Moody down out the side of his eye for a long moment. Then, adjusting the collar of his tan robes, he glanced at Sirius one last time and headed out without another word.

Even with how quickly he strode out of the room and then Grimmauld Place itself, Jacob's mind was whirling faster still.

Jacob couldn’t stop staring. All he could was wordlessly stare at his own hand on the door, then at the cabinet’s interior, then at the guest room ceiling. His silence made Mia’s confidence falter slightly.

“You don’t have to keep it here. Both of the cabinets are yours. I just know you’ve said your mother and sister have very small homes, so they might not have space for you to crash on short notice…and well, Mum specifically keeps this room made up for guests, so it’d be no trouble if you want to use it.”

Jacob still didn’t speak. His hand on the door was shaking.

“Jacob…?”

As soon as Mia approached, Jacob whirled on her, his pale face overcome with tears as he stared at her.

“Mi…” his face was spread with a strained smile. “…I really am a complete idiot, aren’t I?”

Once he’d gotten a good enough look at her to know she wouldn’t pull away, he threw an arm around her and pulled her into the biggest hug. Soon he was laughing, and Mia laughed too as she hugged him back.

“You scared me for a minute!” she scolded him good-naturedly. “I thought you didn’t like it!”

Jacob choked through his laughter. “Like it!? Like it!? Mi…of course I like it! I love…”

He faltered, squeezing her a bit tighter. Then, after he’d collected himself enough to push back his tears, he spoke a bit more softly.

“Mi?”

“Yeah?”

“You…know how I feel about you…right?”

Mia looked at him. Jacob was so uncomfortable and guilty he could barely look her in the face.

“Reckon I’m probably the last to figure out I’ve even got feelings, as to be expected,” he muttered. “It was the same way with Ashe…”

The thought of Ashe brought a spark of awareness back to his eyes; he quickly looked at Mia with a much more anxious look in his eye.

“If the way I feel…if anything I’ve done or anything I might do or say upsets you, just tell me and I promise, I’ll shut up and never say a word of it again.” His face was strained with a very weak smile. “You’re my friend, and if that’s all you want, that’s fine. It’s more than fine. I get it, Fortescue was your one and only, and I could never replace him — I…”

Jacob sensed Mia was going to interrupt him, so he stopped talking before she’d even opened her mouth. Smiling wryly, Mia brought up a hand and rested it on his shoulder near his neck.

“First of all, stop beating yourself up. You’re not that late in figuring it out.”

Mia felt her cheeks burning again, and it made her avert her gaze. Her green eyes ran over Jacob’s lips absently as her thumb brushed over his collarbone.

“Second…” she murmured. “I do know. How we…both feel.”

Jacob’s lips parted with a slight intake of breath.

“Or at least, I hoped we did…until right now.” Mia’s heart was pounding hard in her ears as she tried to keep her composure. “I know you want to travel. I know you’re happy traveling, just as much as I’m happy being here, running the shop. …But I…I love it when you’re here too. I love when you bring things back from your travels and tell me about all the amazing stuff you've seen. I love when we get to do things together…things I only just recently realized are things I probably would’ve done with Florean if he were here. Things you might’ve done with Duncan -- things that we would’ve done with them, had the world been a more just place. And yet, you’ve been here for those things, for me, and that…it means the world to me. You…mean a lot to me.”

There was a pause. Then Mia's head abruptly snapped up and she held up a strict, reproachful finger as she stared Jacob down fiercely.

“If we’re going to do anything about how we feel, though, you need to understand I want something serious, not a casual fling.”

Jacob looked taken aback. “Well, yeah! Obviously.”

“I expect marriage at some point. Maybe next year, if all goes well.”

“That'd be cool.”

“I also want kids. And an active partner in raising them, not some absent, fly-by-night leech who can’t even change a diaper — ”

“I changed Pip’s diapers more than our old man ever did, so no worries there,” Jacob shot back rather coolly.

His expression then betrayed something more vulnerable.

“…I admit, I haven’t dwelled much on kids…only with Ashe, and just the once.” He frowned deeply as he glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I dunno how I’d really be…hopefully more like Lugh or your dad, rather than my old man.” He fought back a grimace as he faced Mia more seriously. “But...if we ever did have kids together...I can promise you this: I will do whatever I have to do, so they can live free and happy. Even if I have to travel a lot, and even if I can get stuck in my head and be stupid about what people want…even if I have to stand up to the Cromwell Clan all over again, or if I have to fight another whole Wizarding War…”

His skull-like blue eyes blazed like a pair of steadfast, passionate stars.

“…I’d move Heaven and Earth for them. Because all I've ever wanted is to make my family proud, and ensure their happiness. If you want to be part of my family…then that goes for you too. All of you. Your sisters, your mum, Olin and Skylar, Ambrosius...even Fortescue's grandpa! Any kids too, if we have ’em. Hell, even Fortescue! Just because he's no longer here doesn't mean I can't work to make him proud, like I do with Ashe and Lugh. Because...well, you're my family. And like Mum told Pip and me when we were kids, family's built on love, not blood.” He smiled. “...Even if things don't go the way they should...as long as that's true, I reckon we'll be fine.”

Mia felt herself choking up a bit despite herself. She squeezed his shoulder that bit more tightly, her head bowing; sensing the move, Jacob shifted around to “catch” her head in the crook of his neck, holding the back of her head in his hand.

“I do expect to keep my surname if we marry, as well,” Mia sniffed.

“Good!” Jacob laughed. “I’ve already said that the only good Cromwells are my mum and Pip.” Something mischievous migrated over his face as he cradled Mia’s head beside his. “Maybe I’ll even take your surname! That’d be a fun way to piss off old uncle Blaise.”

Mia laughed. “Aw, but if you do that, I won't be able to call you 'Cromwell' anymore when I'm cross with you!”

Jacob's grin broadened as he propped his forehead beside hers. “You still can, if you want. That surname is worthy of being cross with.”

Mia's eyes glittered like peridot gems as she brought a hand up along Jacob's bearded cheek. She knew he could sense her move to kiss him long before she made it, and sure enough, it resulted in their lips meeting in the exact middle.

When the little witch came up to the counter with her shopping, she just about burst into tears when she realized who the woman at the register was.

"You're Hermia -- you're Hermia Flume?" she choked, her face stretched into the biggest, most emotional smile. "Miss Flume...my family and I...we owe you so much! All your baked goods...I can't even tell you how much sun they brought us, while we were with Jacob..."

"Jacob?" Mia gave a start. Then her eyes widened. "...You were one of Jacob's families. The ones he hid in his flat."

Mary nodded through her tears. "We spent a week in that room, until we got a way out of the country. All the while, my poor Alfred would get panic attacks, being in such a tight space. Jacob used to take him out into the living room and gave him some of your sweets, whenever he was going through an episode. Used to have him focus just on holding one -- taking note of how it looked, how it smelled, how it felt -- while regulating his breathing...then on how good the spells you put in felt, when he finally ate it. And by the end, he'd always be smiling..."

Mia found herself smiling too. "...Well, I'm glad I could help. And that you and your family are well."

Mary wiped her eyes. "We're glad you are too! I remember hearing about what happened to your store, on Potterwatch..." she glanced up at the new and improved shop with a smile. "You really have done so much for so many people, Miss Flume."

"Thank you," said Mia. As soon as she said it, though, a dark cloud seemed to follow behind, casting a shadow over her gratitude. "...I...couldn't have done any of it without Cromwell's help. I don't even know if I would've done any of it at all, if it hadn't been for him..."

And now he's leaving. Leaving on brand new adventures far away from here, for who knows how long...

Mia's limbs suddenly felt like those of a wind-up toy. She wanted to bolt -- she even shifted around to look out the door, though the view of the bustling Hogsmeade crowds coming into the shop stopped her in her tracks.

She wanted to go. Even if she had sent him a letter already, she wanted to go and tell him again how grateful she was for his help, his support...his friendship throughout the War. She wanted to tell him to come back soon -- that her family would miss him, that she would miss him. But...

"Miss Flume?"

Mia tried to put on her best customer service face for Mary Cattermole. "I'm sorry...just got a bit distracted. Here -- let me ring up your things..."

Mary watched Mia ring up everything with a rather tentative expression. Then, after a moment, she said,

"...You know...my father was a greengrocer." When Mia looked up in surprise, she pushed on a bit more quickly, "He sold produce. I used to work in his shop, over the summer...I know how to use a cash register and how to stock shelves..."

She offered a very weak, but earnest smile.

"If you...have your hands full, taking care of all these customers...I'd be happy to help! For pay, of course. I could even help now, if you'd like...I have nowhere to be today, aside from home for dinner..."

Mia opened her mouth to politely dissuade her. But before she could, something made her pause. A little boy had barreled straight across the shop, straight for the No-Melt ice cream cartons in the display case -- a boy with curly blond hair a lot like Florean's...

"…Florean would’ve liked this. He…always said he wished we could take enough time off to visit Italy together…try some authentic gelato."

Fresh, aching longing rushed over Mia at the memory of her lost love. She'd wanted to do so much with him...get married, have a family...there'd even been less feasible things like taking a vacation to different countries. Even now, when the War was over, Mia found herself dreaming of even more ridiculous things she would've loved to do with Florean, if he were still there. Go out dancing at a night club...take a boat ride down the River Thames...go to a concert! Make flower crowns in a meadow somewhere...take a Muggle cooking class together...maybe even attend a masquerade, like that one Jacob went to in Italy...

"I wish you could’ve too."

Jacob's words in that moment had held so much more empathy than Mia would've ever imagined he could be capable of, when they were growing up. He was sad that Mia hadn't had the chance to travel with Florean, maybe not as much as she did, but still, he resented it. Probably just as much as he resented not saving Honeydukes, the night of the Death Eaters' attack. He regretted that Mia and Florean hadn't had their happy ending. Mia herself regretted it...regretted it more than anything...

How much more would she come to regret, thanks to her inaction? If she stayed still at Honeydukes that day and decided not to see Jacob off...would she likewise regret that forever?

"…Maybe after the War, I could bring you some gelato? You know, when I next come back to London."

And so Mia did something incredibly rash and out-of-character -- she took Mary Cattermole up on her offer to help her mother run the shop in her stead. She (and Jenie, once she figured out what was going on) taught Mary everything she needed to know as fast as possible, and soon Mary was pecking away at the line with amazing precision. Then Mia ran upstairs to change into something more Muggle-worthy. Ambrosius was right at Mia's heels the whole time, his tail wagging. When she reached the base of the staircase again, Mia gave the greyhound a big hug and some ear scratches, instructing him to "sit" and "stay." Then she left the shop, Disapparating to London with a loud CRACK.

~*~

Mia hadn't been to Kings Cross Station since her seventh year of Hogwarts. The train station had understandably changed quite a bit in those last seventeen years, and trying to blend in with crowds of distracted, traveling Muggles was a bit difficult, even while dressed a bit more like them.

It was frankly a miracle that Mia found Jacob's station in enough time. Fortunately when she reached the station, Jacob stuck out like a sore thumb.

"CROMWELL!"

When Jacob looked up and turned around, his skull-like blue eyes lit up at the sight of Mia.

"Mi!"

He met her half-way. It was a bit of a relief for Mia, since she was left panting after only having run half the distance. As soon as she came to a stop, just as she was about to catch her breath, she was startled by Jacob quickly putting down his suitcase so he could take both of her hands and bring them up between them.

"Purse your lips," he said. "If you inhale through your nose, exhale slowly through pursed lips, and push up against me like I'm a wall, that'll help you breathe easier."

Flustered, Mia tried to do what he told her. Placing her palms right against Jacob's, she leaned forward, breathing in through her nose and out through her puckered lips. Sure enough, before long, it did seem to help.

"Better?" asked Jacob.

"Yeah." Mia exhaled a bit more fully. "...Thanks."

She looked up at him. His blue eyes were sparkling with interest.

"You have your hair down."

Mia tucked her blond hair behind her ear self-consciously. "...Well, I'm not working. I'll put it back up, when I'm in the kitchen."

"Reckon you'd have to, yeah," Jacob granted.

There was a pause. It was incredibly uncomfortable for Mia as she tried to collect herself.

"...I...I figured I should...rather, I wanted to...to see you off. Even if I already wrote you a letter, there was...a lot I didn't say. Or accent the importance of. That is...that I'm grateful to you...for everything you've done and...everything you've been. You've been a good man and a good friend to my family and me and...well, it'll be...not the same, when you're gone. And if you...when you...ever come back to London...just know our home will always be open, if you...need a place to crash."

Mia sounded stupid in her own ears. But Jacob clearly wasn't bothered by her lack of eloquence: his face had broken out into a full, handsome grin long before Mia had finished. To Mia's surprise, his eyes were even swimming with traces of tears.

"...That...means a lot, Mi. Thanks."

He picked up his suitcase, smoothing his dark bangs out of his eyes as he collected himself, and held out a hand to her. After the briefest hesitation, Mia put her hand out and Jacob took it, clasping it between them in a rather masculine handshake.

"I liked your letter," he said. "But...I like this better. Seeing the person one more time before I go...that always makes saying goodbye easier."

"Do you know when you'll come back?" Mia asked before she could stop herself.

Jacob shook his head. "I was asked to come and help at a cursebreaking site in Iceland first. After that I promised to check back up on Olympe in France, make sure she's settling in. Pip's said that I also might need to come back to London at some point to give testimony for some trials she's got coming up next year...Corban Yaxley's, for instance," a smirk passed briefly over his expression. "...If all else, though, I'm always home for Christmas. I promised Mum that years ago."

Mia looked down. "...I see."

Her disappointment was so audible that even Jacob didn't miss it. He tried and failed to smile reassuringly -- instead his eyes just drifted down to their hands as they slowly broke apart and then away, back toward the trains.

"Must be exciting." Jacob looked at Mia, and she clarified, "To go back to traveling. I know you missed it, during the War."

Jacob looked away again, back toward the trains.

"...I did, yeah. And it is exciting. It's just this part...always reminds me of Hogwarts."

"Because it's at King's Cross?" Mia guessed.

"That. And..." Jacob paused. He spoke again after a very big swallow. "...And the...leaving. Leaving people behind..."

Mia faltered. Something melancholy passed over Jacob's features.

"I loved Hogwarts," he admitted lowly. "I still do. I love it probably more than any other place I've been to. But even with how much I loved it..." Remorse and pain consumed his face, "...I had to leave Mum and Pip behind. Every single year, I had to go off to this beautiful, wonderful place, where I could be myself for the first time in my life, free and happy with the world and future wide open to me, and yet..."

He swallowed.

"...only I got to go to that place. Only I got to see it. And all while Mum worked two jobs just to support us, and Pip had to deal with stupid plonkers at her school bullying her, all on her own."

His eyes had filled with tears again, but he forced them back.

"All I could do was write letters back to them, to tell them about things -- not everything, of course, but the good stuff. The stuff I wanted so much to share with them, maybe over dinner, the way I used to share my boring Muggle school days before Hogwarts. So many nights in first year I dreamed of using the Floo Network or Apparating home at night, just in time to help Pip and Mum get dinner on the table...at least until I found out the Floo Network doesn't work between countries and that you can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds. Pip even told me once, when she was little, that she wished she was like the Pevensies -- you know, the kids from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? -- and that she could have a magic wardrobe that she could walk through straight to Hogwarts, where I was. Then she could see all the amazing, magical things I saw too..."

He smiled bitterly.

"...I think back on that a lot, when I'm traveling...wishing I had some Narnian wardrobe in my room-in-a-suitcase that could take me back to London, after my adventuring is through. Then maybe while I'm traveling, I wouldn't feel so..."

"Isolated," finished Mia.

Jacob nodded. Mia looked down at the hand of hers that had previously been holding Jacob's for a moment; then she took a deep breath.

"You have an enchanted mailbox at the Owl Office, right? One that forwards your mail to you while you're traveling?"

"Yeah -- it goes to an inbox in my room-in-a-suitcase. Olympe was the one who finally gave me the kick up the arse to do it."

Mia crossed her arms with a smile. "Well, then, at the very least, I can still keep sending coded care packages. Just for fun, this time. And um..." she hesitated, "...don't forget, you...did promise me some gelato. I won't enjoy it properly once the weather gets colder, so you'd best bring it back before the end of summer. You promise?"

Jacob's face brightened as he beamed.

"...I promise."

"Last Boarding Call, northbound train to Edinburgh -- "

"That's me," said Jacob. "I'd better go..."

Even while saying this, he hesitated after taking a step and looked back.

"Mi?"

"Yeah?"

"When I get back...how about I cook us something? You know, to go with the gelato."

Mia blinked in surprise. Then she smiled.

"We can cook something," she corrected. "Together."

With a grin, Jacob strode up to the train and handed his ticket to the conductor.

"Jacob?"

Jacob was so startled by her use of his first name that he turned back around again.

"When you get back," said Mia, "I want to see A Midsummer Night's Dream with you."

Jacob blinked in surprise. Mia felt her cheeks flushing.

"I've read it before, but never seen it. I'll find a production somewhere and pay for the tickets, but...will you go with me?"

Jacob's eyes once again lit up, bright enough to rival stars, as he grinned.

"I wouldn't miss it!"

Jacob finished boarding the train, his suitcase in hand. As the train door closed, Mia could see Jacob dashing toward the closest window, and he waved broadly at her. She felt her smile hurting with how much it spread across her face as she waved back, on and on until the train was out of sight. Then, lowering her hand, she exhaled heavily through her nose.

Goodbye, Jacob.

As she headed out of King's Cross, Mia passed the Hatchards bookshop. In an attempt to shake the gloom off her shoulders, she actually sidled inside and decided to look around, taking in the dozens of foreign Muggle books for sale. One in particular caught her eye -- The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe -- and after muddling through paying for the book with only her basic education on Muggle currency, Mia left the shop and headed back to the street so she could call the Knight Bus to take her home. She read the book for the rest of her ride home and then later after the shop had closed for the night. When she was finished, Mia left her bookmark on the very last page, for it was this page in particular that she'd read the most in succession.

So these Kings and Queens entered the thicket, and before they had gone a score of paces they all remembered that the thing they had seen was called a lamppost, and before they had gone twenty more they noticed that they were. making their way not through branches but through coats. And next moment they all came tumbling out of a wardrobe door into the empty room, and They were no longer Kings and Queens in their hunting array but just Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy in their old clothes. It was the same day and the same hour of the day on which they had all gone into the wardrobe to hide. Mrs Macready and the visitors were still talking in the passage; but luckily they never came into the empty room and so the children weren't caught. And that would have been the very end of the story if it hadn't been that they felt they really must explain to the Professor why four of the coats out of his wardrobe were missing. And the Professor, who was a very remarkable man, didn't tell them not to be silly or not to tell lies, but believed the whole story. "No," he said, "I don't think it will be any good trying to go back through the wardrobe door to get the coats. You won't get into Narnia again by that route. Nor would the coats be much use by now if you did! Eh? What's that? Yes, of course you'll get back to Narnia again some day. Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia. But don't go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don't try to get there at all. It'll happen when you're not looking for it. And don't talk too much about it even among yourselves. And don't mention it to anyone else unless you find that they've had adventures of the same sort themselves. What's that? How will you know? Oh, you'll know all right. Odd things they say - even their looks - will let the secret out. Keep your eyes open. Bless me, what do they teach them at these schools?" And that is the very end of the adventure of the wardrobe. But if the Professor was right it was only the beginning of the adventures in Narnia.