Hogwarts,
Scottish Highlands.
March 21, 16:04 BST.

Albus Dumbledore looked up from the documents that he was in the middle of working on. "Enter."

The door opened, and three individuals filed in: Alastor Moody, one of his oldest and closest allies within the Ministry; and two of his professors, the prim and formal Minerva McGonagall and the sallow-faced Severus Snape.

"Have a seat, all of you," he asked, indicating three chairs arrayed on the other side of his desk.

"What's he doing here?" growled Alastor, casting a suspicious eye over at Severus.

"Reporting on the situation we find ourselves in, just as you are," Albus replied blandly.

Alastor snorted and shrugged. "You're the boss."

"Severus, would you like to report first?"

The younger man raised an eyebrow as if to question whether his 'wishes' had anything to do with it. "I have discretely questioned several of my... former associates... who remain at liberty, and while all are of course aware that the brat..."

"Severus!" hissed McGonagall.

"... that the Potter boy..." continued Snape. "Is in hiding, none of them claim any knowledge of where, nor does there seem to be any belief that there is anything untoward about the fact."

Albus nodded, that was more or less what he'd hoped to hear from his potions master and occasional informant. "Alastor?"

"My sources at the Ministry are saying pretty much same," Alastor confirmed. "Up till now, I've been avoiding Cherry Tree Lane..."

"As well you should, Alastor," cautioned Minerva. "She is not someone you want to cross."

Snape snorted. "'The Nanny'? A fairy tale for little children!"

"On the contrary, Severus," Albus interjected. "She is very real... though exactly what she is -- genius loci, elemental, demon, agent of the Lords of Magic -- eluded my brief examination the one time our paths crossed. I chose not to tempt Destiny a second time."

Alastor nodded in agreement. "Now that the wind has changed, I think it's worth the risk to try and see if I can find out anything there."

"I agree," Albus confirmed. A glance at Minerva showed that she wasn't entirely convinced, but she chose to keep her own counsel. "Be careful, Alastor."

"I always am," he assured Albus. "Constant Vigilance!"

"Indeed," Albus agreed. "While you are doing that, I shall consider what assets and agents I can bring to bear. Particularly if he is no longer in Britain..."

Manhattan.
June 7, 16:16 EDT.

Many people -- even most witches and wizards -- would have been at least startled if a swan-sized bird had appeared in the middle of their study unannounced save by a ball of flame, but Fidelio Scamander was no ordinary wizard...

He was a magizoologist.

So, his reaction was merely to smile. "Hello, Fawkes. Do you have something for me from Professor Dumbledore?"

The phoenix trilled an affirmative and extended a leg to allow the young man to remove the missive. He scanned it quickly, then glanced at the clock. "It's fairly late," he told the bird. "Tell Professor Dumbledore that I'll get on to it tomorrow."

The phoenix trilled another tune and then disappeared.

The Scamander name was famous -- or perhaps infamous -- enough that Fidelio had no difficult getting past the magical lobby of Woolworth Building and into the Magic Congress itself.

But he hit a bit of a snag when he made it to the office he sought as the old friend that he'd been hoping to leverage to get the information that Professor Dumbledore had asked for was out of the office and a stranger -- the head of department -- was filling in.

The officious looking man finished reading the note and looked up at him. "There are procedures for this kind of request, Mr Scamander."

"Yes, Mr Salco," Fidelio agreed. "I... that is... Professor Dumbledore believes that official channels would cause... unwanted attention... to the matter."

"So, he says," agreed the official primly. Then he sighed. "Very well... I have one of my clerks look into the matter... but I cannot justify prioritising it in any way."

"I'm sure your normal procedures will be more than up to the task," Fidelio said brightly.

The older man paused for a moment, then turned back towards the bull pen behind him. "Weatherby!"

A young, red-headed man jumped to his feet, dislodging a large stack of papers from his desk as he did so. "Ye-yes, sir?" he asked, as he bent to try to pick up the stack.

"Get over here!"

"Yes sir," confirmed the red-head and stepped over the remaining papers on the way to the front desk, scattering and disarranging them further in the process. "Can I help, sir?"

Mr Salco thrust Professor Dumbledore's note at him. "Answer this for me!"

"Yes, sir," he agreed and accepted the note. He paused for a moment, but then a glare from his boss sent him scurrying back to his desk.

"Is there anything else?" asked Mr Salco, turning back to Fidelio.

"No thank you," replied Fidelio. "I'll be off."

"Please."

Fidelio turned to go, briefly optimistic that his mission would be a success.

This feeling lasted only as far as the door, as the sound of a stack of parchment sliding to the floor reached his ears... again.

Well, at least it's not urgent...

Hogwarts,
Scottish Highlands.
September 5, 21:00 BST.

Albus sat in his throne-like chair watching his deputy led the stream of over sixty first-years down the centre aisle and lined up in front of the three-legged stool that supported the Sorting Hat, facing away from the teachers high table and towards their peers seated watching from the four perpendicular benches.

The Sorting Hat began to sing, but the headmaster tuned it out, after hearing dozens of versions during his time as both student and teacher, it's attractions were largely lost on him.

Once the hat had finished its song, Minerva stepped forward and unrolled the long roll of parchment that contained the first year list. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted," she told the new arrivals. "Zara Ames."

A petite, friendly-looking girl whose looks suggested either Lovegood or Malfoy ancestry stepped out of the crowd, jumped up on the stool and jammed the Hat on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" declared the Hat, almost immediately.

Miss Ames stepped down moved to join the house of the badger, and was replaced by Ross Atkins, an aristocratic-looking boy who was quickly sorted into Slytherin.

Moments later, Peter Baines became the first new Gryffindor, then Vera Boyd started the count for Ravenclaw.

Most of the names pasted without any particular note -- other than that the share to each House was roughly similar -- for the next two-dozen or so, until the first set of twins -- Eleanor and Zenobia Hunniford -- were Sorted, both of which were sent to the house of the badger.

The Robertson fraternal twins -- Bess and Glenn -- briefly piqued his notice after another dozen Sortings, and again the twins were similar enough in temperament to both be sorted into Ravenclaw.

The sixty-fourth and final student, strawberry-blond curly-haired and blue-eyed Avery Wolpert, was sorted into Ravenclaw a few moments later.

Once young Wolpert was seated at the house of ravens and Minerva had tidied away the Sorting Hat, Albus rose to his feet and opened his arms wide as if to hold them all in a hug. "Welcome... welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!"

As he sat down again, the students briefly erupted into to claps and cheers, but died down after a while as all of them were keen to get down to eating their belated dinner.

Eventually though, even his own appetite for dessert had been sated, and the headmaster rose to his feet again.

The hall fell silent almost immediately. "Ahem... just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered," he told his audience. "I have a few Start-of-Term notices to give you: First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils... I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I would like to introduce Rain Appletree..."

He glanced to the side and waited until the striking dark-haired woman rose to her feet. "Professor Appletree is a graduate of the Tamarack Academy of Magic and has spent the last ten years as their assistant instructor for magical combat. She will be taking over the vacant post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

The pretty, middle-aged woman got the standing ovation that Albus had expected, and he allowed it to continue for a while, then dismissed the assembly to bed.

September 6, 07:16 BST.

A Ministry owl landed next to Albus' plate, examining the bird, he quickly noticed the tiny note attached to the bird's leg and removed it. The creature hooted in thanks and took off again.

The note was short and to the point:

Igor Karkoff has offered to provide names of collaborators and Death Eaters in order to get clemency. A hearing has been scheduled a hearing in front of the Council of Magical Law for four o'clock this afternoon on the matter.

The Chief Warlock requires your attendance at that time.

Phillipa Wolpert,
Special Assistant to the Chief Warlock.

"Minerva?"

"Yes, Albus?'

"Barty Crouch has called a session of the Council for this afternoon," he replied. "It's likely that I will be out of the castle for at least some time."

"I'm sure we will manage, Albus," replied his deputy.

"I'm sure you will," Albus agreed equably and returned to his breakfast.

Ministry of Magic,
London.
16:07 BST.

"I call this special session of the Council of Magical Law to order," declared Barty Crouch. "I will be conducting the interrogation, and Phillipa Wolpert will be acting as scribe." He paused for a moment and then glanced towards the door. "Bring in the prisoner."

The door into the holding area opened and three figures -- two tall, hooded Dementors and a gaunt man with black hair and a goatee in thin, ragged robes -- moved out of the holding room and into the well of the court.

Many of the watching crowd shrank away from the foul creatures as they passed them, and it took all of Albus' self-control not to join them.

The man was frog-marched to a chair in the middle room and forced down into it. As usual, the arms of the chair glowed as soon as he touched the seat and a pair of chains snaked upwards to bind the man to the chair.

Once they were satisfied that he was secure, the Dementors spun around and glided back out of the room.

The door swung shut behind them.

"Igor Karkaroff," began Mr Crouch. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us."

"I have, sir," agreed the other man, straightening up as best as he could despite his bindings, his voice a curious mix of fear and unctuousness to it. "I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I... I know that the Ministry is trying to... to round up the last of the Dark Lord's supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can..."

A murmur made its way around the benches. Albus glanced over the crowd, he wasn't surprised that they were fairly split. Some of them were surveying him with interest, while others showed pronounced mistrust. As yet there was no clear majority on either point.

"Filth," growled a familiar voice.

Albus glanced at his old friend, Alastor Moody, known by many -- both in affection and hostility as Mad-Eye -- who was staring intently at the prisoner, disgust clear in his expression. "Crouch is going to let him out," he whispered. "He's done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he's got enough new names. Let's hear his information, I say, and throw him straight back to the Dementors."

Albus made a small dissenting noise but didn't elaborate.

"Ah, I was forgetting..." said his friend with a sardonic smile. "You don't like the Dementors, do you, Albus?"

"No," Dumbledore agreed calmly, "I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures."

"But for filth like this...?" countered Alastor, softly.

"You say you have names for us, Karkaroff," Mr Crouch said officiously. "Let us hear them, please."

"You must understand," said Karkaroff hurriedly, "that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy. He preferred that we... I mean to say, his supporters, and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them..."

"Get on with it," sneered Moody.

"... Never knew the names of every one of our fellows. He alone knew exactly who we all were..."

"Which was a wise move, wasn't it," muttered Alastor. "As it prevented someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them in."

"Yet you say you have some names for us?" Mr Crouch pointed out archly.

"I - I do," said Karkaroff breathlessly. "And these were important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely..."

"These names are?" said Mr. Crouch sharply.

Karkaroff drew a deep breath. "There was Antonin Dolohov, I... I saw him torture countless Muggles and... and non-supporters of the Dark Lord."

"And helped him do it," murmured Alastor.

"We have already apprehended Dolohov," said Mr Crouch. "He was caught shortly after yourself."

"Indeed?" said Karkaroff, his eyes widening. "I-I am delighted to hear it!"

Looking at him, Albus wasn't even slighly convinced at his statement. Dolohov's arrest was clearly a huge blow to the man.

"Any others?" said Crouch coldly.

"Why, yes ... there was Rosier," said Karkaroff hurriedly. "Evan Rosier."

"Rosier is dead," said Crouch. "He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."

"Took a bit of me with him, though," whispered Alastor.

"No... no more than Rosier deserved!" said Karkaroff, a real note of panic in his voice now. Albus could see that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. Karkaroff's eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the Dementors undoubtedly still stood, waiting.

"Any more?" said Crouch.

"Yes!" said Karkaroff. "There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber... he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!"

Albus hadn't been surprised at the first two names, their activities were well known to him, but the third...

He was clearly news to much of the crowd as well, as the murmuring started up again.

"Rookwood?" said Mr. Crouch, nodding to Miss Wolpert, who quickly began to write. "Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"

"The very same," Karkaroff confirmed, eagerly. "I believe he used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect information..."

"But Travers and Mulciber we have," said Mr. Crouch. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide..."

"Not yet!" cried Karkaroff, his brief confidence deserting him, as the fear returned. "Wait, I have more!" He began to sweat, his increasing pale skin a stark contrast to his shiny black hair and beard. "Snape... Severus Snape!"

Albus' stomach dropped for a moment. Could there be more to Severus than I know... he thought, but quickly discarded the notion.

"Snape has been cleared by this council," retorted Crouch disdainfully. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."

"No!" shouted Karkaroff, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"

Albus rose to his feet. "I have given evidence already on this matter," he said with his usual calmness. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."

"Very well, Karkaroff," Crouch said coldly, "You have been of assistance, so I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime..."

"Are you sure about your boy, Albus?" Alastor asked in his typical sceptical growl.

"I have full confidence in Severus Snape," Albus confirmed firmly.

Alastor snorted, clearly no more convinced than the last half-a-dozen times he'd been told the same thing but didn't argue the point as Mr Crouch dismissed them a moment later.

Hogwarts.
September 16, 16:16 BST.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I apologise for the delayed reply, but they are apparently rather busy in the Magical Relations and Education Office at present.

Apparently, there are no records of any member of the Potter family entering MACUSA territory in the last year.

Yours sincerely,

Fidelio Scamander.

Well, I suppose that would have been a little too easy... Albus thought. But the search will continue, must continue... Our very survival depends on it.