Mist. Mist everywhere, as far as the eye could see, and probably even where it couldn’t. Up, down, left, right – the entire landscape was a sea of swirling, pearly-grey mist. It was impossible to say where the place was, or even if it was a real place at all.

Off to the left, two small, blinking red dots appeared. Time meant nothing in this place, so it was impossible to tell quite how long it took them to grow bigger. But no – that wasn’t quite accurate. They weren’t growing bigger . . . they were coming nearer.

On the right, the mist seemed to coalesce into a slightly darker form. It was shapeless, constantly shifting. It seemed to spin in a fast circle, and then slowed, turning as if to look out over the paler fog.

When the things met in the middle, it became apparent that they were, in basic shape at least, humanoid.

“Why have you brought me here?!” two echoes roared, crashing together like waves against a cliff.

There was a pause, as the two entities seemed to back off and eye the other suspiciously.

“This is not your doing?” one queried, finally.

The other shook what head it had. “Not mine,” it agreed. “What is this place?”

Dark Shadow twisted itself around, peering off into the murky distance. “Limbo, maybe,” it said, finally. “Or perhaps one of the Demonic Wastelands. I have not visited them all.”

Red-Eyes seemed to perk up. “Limbo?” It, too, looked around. “Then my plan for immortality worked – I am not dead!”

“You may not be completely dead, but neither are you completely alive,” Dark Shadow pointed out. Its shape shifted again, and almost seemed to grow a pair of wings, before they wrapped around it like a cloak.

Finally, Red-Eyes remembered its suspicions. “And just who are you to know so much about this place?” it asked, eyes narrowing until the red gleam was barely visible.

“I am the Source,” Dark Shadow proclaimed. The shadows at the core of it twisted tighter into an almost black mass. Red-Eyes snorted, not impressed. “You doubt me?” Dark Shadow purred.

“Somehow, I can’t see people fleeing in terror yelling, ‘The Source is coming!’. Just doesn’t have that . . . ring to it,” Red-Eyes jeered.

Even though it couldn’t see it, Red-Eyes had the sudden impression that Dark Shadow was smiling – and it wasn’t a nice smile. A chill went down what passed as its backbone.

“Oh, believe me, it has ring enough,” Dark Shadow said. It stretched out what passed as an arm – although it looked more like a claw – and beckoned to Red-Eyes. “If you want to be what you once were, then come. I will help you. For I, Voldemort, am the Source of All Evil.”

---

In a castle in the remote highlands of Scotland, a dark-haired man sat straight up in bed, his heart racing, gasping for air.

---

 On the second floor of a Victorian house in the hills of San Francisco, a woman with pixie-cut brown hair sat straight up in bed, her breath leaving her in a gasp.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

“Did you have any weird dreams last night?”

Potions Master Severus Snape stared at his colleague for a long moment, before blinking at him. “Is that the new greeting now?” he asked, dryly. “Whatever happened to ‘Good morning’?” He pulled out a chair and settled himself at the Staff Table.

“Good morning. Did you have any weird dreams last night?” Harry Potter repeated.

Severus took a sip of his morning coffee – never mind all that British-tea-lovers nonsense, give him a good strong cup of coffee any day – and eyed the Defence professor over the rim of his mug. With the death of Voldemort, the curse on the position had been broken, and Harry, although young, had been a natural choice, once he’d decided that he’d had enough of chasing dark wizards, and wanted a slightly safer career.

“Well?” Harry insisted, impatiently.

“No more than usual,” Severus finally replied. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Why?”

“Because—” Harry glanced around and lowered his voice, despite there being nobody anywhere close enough to overhear them. “—I dreamt of Voldemort last night.”

Even six years after the megalomaniac’s demise, Severus still stiffened automatically at the sound of his name. “Nightmares are common after traumatic events,” he said, slowly.

Harry shook his head. “This wasn’t a nightmare; or, at least, not a normal one,” he said. “Take a look.”

“Harry,” said Severus, warningly.

“I know you swore off legilimency, but it’ll be easier than trying to explain it,” Harry whispered. “Please.” His eyes beseeched Severus, until the older man gave in with a sigh.

“Very well. But in my quarters, after breakfast.”

Satisfied, Harry nodded and turned back to his meal, leaving Severus to wonder just what fresh hell was approaching this time.

---

By the time they’d reached Severus’ quarters, he had remembered that he had a Pensieve. Harry argued, but Severus prevailed, and ten minutes after that, they were both falling into the silvery-grey memory strands.

Ten minutes after that, Severus was lurching backwards away from the Pensieve, his face frozen in a mask of horror. He ricocheted off a cabinet, and almost fell over the back of the settee. “No,” he mouthed, his right hand scrabbling at his left sleeve.

Harry laid his hands over Severus’, stilling it. “No, not yet,” he said, softly, apologetically. “But soon, I think.” He led Severus around the settee and pushed him down onto it. “Whiskey?” he queried. When Severus didn’t respond, he went rooting through the cabinets, and finally returned with two large glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey. He poured a generous amount into one glass and handed it to Severus. “Here,” he said.

Severus stared at the drink in his hand for a moment, then tossed it back in one go, shuddering at the burn going down his throat. “I thought—” he croaked, then coughed to clear his throat and tried again. “I thought your link with him was broken when he . . . killed you.”

“I thought so, too,” Harry sighed, sipping more gingerly at his own drink. “But he’s obviously a stubborn bastard; you have to give him that.”

“I don’t think I can say what I’d ‘rather give him’,” Severus said, dryly, and Harry laughed, almost choking on his firewhiskey. “How long?” asked Severus, quietly, and Harry gave him an enquiring look. “How long before he comes back again?”

“I honestly have no idea,” the young professor admitted. “I think we were lucky I got this much warning. Depends how long it takes that ‘Source’ to find a way to do . . . whatever it was planning on.”

“The source of all evil,” Severus mused. “I wouldn’t have thought there was such a thing.”

“But trust it to find Voldemort, huh?” Harry topped up both their glasses.

“We must let Albus know,” Severus said, yet again tossing his back. “He must gather the old Guard again.”

“I thought the whole war was supposed to be over. What happened to the peace we were promised?” complained Harry.

“Unfortunately, Harry,” he said, “evil never dies.”

---

Halliwell Manor, San Francisco

“Paige! Piper! Chris!”

“In the kitchen, Pheebs!” Piper Halliwell called over her shoulder, then re-focused her attention on her son – her first-born son – who was currently more interested in playing with his breakfast than eating it. “C’mon, Wyatt, just one little mouthful,” she coaxed. “For Mommy?”

Her younger sister, Phoebe, hurried into the kitchen, an anxious look on her face. “I think we have a problem,” she declared. “A big problem, a huge problem!”

“And good morning to you, too,” Piper said, raising her eyebrows at her sister.

“No, I don’t think so,” Phoebe denied, shaking her head. “I had this really weird dream last night, which I think might have been a premonition.”

“You think you had a premonition in your sleep?” Piper sounded sceptical as she tried to get another spoonful of mashed banana into Wyatt’s little mouth.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Remember the Sandman?” Phoebe reminded her. She suddenly seemed to realise that they were missing two members of the family. “Paige! Chris!” she bellowed.

“Ow! What?” retorted Paige Matthews from where she’d been standing right behind Phoebe.

“Oh, sorry, Paige!” Phoebe gasped, briefly bringing a hand to her mouth.

Paige stepped around her older sister and headed straight for the coffee machine. “So what’s all the noise for?” she asked, as she poured a mug and took a big gulp.

“I had a premonition last night,” Phoebe started.

“She thinks,” Piper interrupted, dodging the handful of banana that Wyatt flung at her. “Wyatt!” she warned.

“You think?” Paige queried, looking askance at Phoebe.

With a huff of exasperation, Phoebe threw her hands in the air. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time!” she repeated. “Remember the Sandman? Anyway—” she hurried on before either sister could interrupt again, “—in my premonition I saw some weird . . . thing, with red eyes, and the Source. I think he’s found a way back.”

Dead silence fell in the kitchen, broken only by Wyatt’s happy gurgling.

“You think the Source is coming back,” Paige finally said, flatly.

“Pheebs, we vanquished the Source . . . several times,” added Piper.

“I know, I know, but are we really sure that he can never come back?” Phoebe pointed out. “He’s the Source of All Evil.”

“Perhaps you should get L— uh, I mean, Chris to check with the Elders?” Paige suggested, wincing at her near slip. The subject of Piper’s currently ex-husband and Wyatt and Chris’ father was a very sore topic at that moment.

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Piper agreed after a moment. She looked up at the ceiling and raised her voice. “Chris!”

A stream of blue-white lights gently wove its way down through the ceiling, creating a column just inside the kitchen doorway. When it solidified, a tall young man with dark brown hair and luminous green eyes appeared. “You called?” he asked, glancing around at them all.

“Oh, sure, you he answers!” Phoebe grumbled. She glared at her nephew. “Did you put me on mute again?”

“Later, Pheebs,” Piper said, hushing her with a wave. She looked back at her other son. “Phoebe thinks she had a premonition of the Source finding a way to return. Could you check with the Elders as to whether that’s possible, please?”

“Sure, Mom,” Chris answered, and disappeared in another swirl of blue-white Orbs.

“I think he had me on mute,” said Phoebe, indignantly. “Did you see how he ignored me?”

Piper snorted, and Paige muttered something that sounded very much like, “Well, can ya blame him?” into her coffee mug.

Phoebe huffed, and turned to go back upstairs to get ready for the day. If they ended up having to kick some demonic ass again, then she had to be prepared.

---

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

“Come in, come in, my dear boys!” Albus Dumbledore eagerly beckoned Harry and Severus into his office. Thanks to a very weak version of a Philosopher’s Stone, and with a little help from Fawkes, the elderly wizard had managed to survive the curse protecting one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, but he was no longer as spry as he had once been. “Tea? Lemon drop?”

“No, thank you, Albus,” Severus said, shaking his head. He exchanged glances with Harry, who moved his head in an encouraging gesture. “I’m afraid we’ve come with some rather . . . unsettling news.”

“Oh, dear, you’re not leaving, are you?” Albus asked, his shoulders drooping.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Severus assured him. “You see . . .” He paused again, unable to find the words to describe the horror that might be coming.

“I had a vision,” Harry said, bluntly. Albus gaped at him. “I think – we think – that Voldemort has found someone, or something, that will help him to return again.”

There was silence for a few moments, broken only by the occasional chirp from Fawkes.

Then, to the surprise of both of them, Albus leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that tears gathered in his eyes, then slowly rolled down his cheeks and were absorbed by his beard. After five minutes, Harry and Severus were exchanging worried looks, as Albus was turning red and hiccupping for breath in between peals of laughter.

“Albus . . ?” Severus said, finally.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Harry muttered half under his breath.

Albus gave one last hiccup, and sighed, reaching up to dab under his eyes with the end of his beard. “Oh, thank you, boys,” he said. “I needed that. Now, what’s the real reason you came to see me?” He looked expectantly at them.

“Uh, that was the reason,” said Harry, frowning slightly.

“Oh, Harry, you did away with Voldemort completely once you destroyed his Horcruxes. I thought you knew that. Have you been worrying about that all this time?” Albus smiled kindly – and slightly condescendingly, to Harry’s mind – at him. “No need to, dear boy. Thanks to you, we are all quite safe, and likely to remain so for some time. After all, no one will want to go up against the Boy-Who-Lived now, will they!”

Eventually – after a very painful and increasingly frustrating half an hour – Harry and Severus gave up, and left Albus to his lemon drops as they retreated to Severus’ dungeons to plot strategy.

---

Halliwell Manor, San Francisco

The faintly musical sound of appearing Orbs alerted Piper to an incoming Whitelighter. She looked up from where she had just finished getting Wyatt dressed. Chris emerged just outside the nursery door. Even though she’d known it for six months now, Piper was still getting used to the fact that Chris – the tall, strapping, good-looking, intense young man – was her second-born son. It was nice to know that she’d gotten it right with at least one son, but to think that his future was so bad that he’d broken every rule about time-travel to come back here to fix it, knowing he could end up wiping himself out of existence, unsure whether he was making things better or worse . . . It gave Piper chills, and she couldn’t think about it too hard, or she suspected she’d never let the poor boy out of the house ever again.

“Where’re Paige and Phoebe?” Chris asked.

“Paige had to go to work, and Phoebe’s upstairs with the Book,” Piper replied, swinging Wyatt up onto her hip. “What did the Elders say?”

“They don’t think the Source could return for centuries, at the very least, if at all,” he told her, moving to the side to let her pass.

“So Phoebe just had a weird dream.” Piper sighed in relief. The recent scare with Chris and the spider-demon had only shown her just how much she needed to protect this son of hers. Wyatt had been able to take care of himself, but Chris needed all the help he could get, even if he didn’t think so. Bad enough fighting ordinary demons – if you could ever call a demon ordinary – without having to go up against the Source . . . again. He’d already caused the death of one Halliwell sister; she didn’t want to add to his total.

“Apparently,” Chris agreed. He looked up the stairs to the attic. “You want to tell her, or should I?”

“I’ll do it. I think she’d a bit annoyed with you,” Piper said, smiling. “Here, take Wyatt downstairs.” She handed the toddler over to his bigger younger brother. “His playpen’s in the sunroom.”

“Why is Phoebe annoyed with me?” Chris asked.

“She thinks you keep putting her on mute,” sighed Piper.

Chris laughed. “I do,” he said.

“Oh,” was the best that Piper could say, surprised. “Well, perhaps I won’t tell her that part.”

“Probably for the best,” agreed Chris, and headed for the stairs.

Piper turned towards the attic stairs, shaking her head and smiling.

---

“Really?” Phoebe folded her arms over the Book of Shadows and leant forward to peer at Piper. “Are they really sure? I mean, positive?”

“Yes, Phoebe,” Piper replied. She folded her own arms, resting them on her protruding stomach. Mini-Chris was asleep, at least for the moment. “Are you sure you didn’t just have a bad dream?”

“I don’t know.” Phoebe straightened up again and started idly flipping through the Book. “But surely if there’s even a chance he could come back . . .” Her voice trailed off for a moment, and then she glanced up at Piper. “Don’t we owe it to Prue to make sure?”

Piper was silent for a long moment. Two and a half years had not been nearly enough time to blunt the edge of losing their eldest sister. “That’s a low blow, Pheebs,” she said, finally.

“I’m sorry, really,” said Phoebe, apologetically. “But I think we need to be prepared . . . just in case.”

“Just in case what?” asked a voice from the attic doorway. The girls looked over to find Chris standing there.

“Just in case the Source does find a way back,” Phoebe answered, narrowing her eyes at her nephew. She hadn’t forgiven him but was willing to put it aside – for now.

“The Elders said—” Chris started, but was interrupted by a snort from Phoebe.

“Wouldn’t be the first time they kept something from us to teach us a lesson,” she said.

“Ha! That’s true,” agreed Piper, derisively.

Chris tried to frown, but couldn’t quite manage the expression. Instead, his face relaxed into a wry smile. He had his own reasons for not trusting the Elders.

“Whoa—Hey!” Phoebe exclaimed, as the Book suddenly began flipping pages by itself. She looked up at Chris and Piper. “Looks like someone up there agrees with me.” The others hurried to her side as the pages slowed, then stopped.

“To find what you seek, and seek what you’ll find,

Trust the vision that’s in your mind.

Mirror image, they’re just like you,

Deeply involved and searching too.

Follow the lines, to show the way,

Cross the water to the end of day.

They’ll guide your path, so drear and rainy,

To Evil’s lair and he who’s . . . veiny?” Piper read, her voice rising in sceptical surprise at the last word.

“‘Veiny’? Who wrote this thing?” Phoebe demanded, looking up.

“I suppose it’s hard to find a rhyme for ‘rainy’,” Chris pointed out, but his tone was amused.

If Piper made any response, Phoebe didn’t hear it.

She was suddenly standing in a room somewhere else. Underground from the feel of it. It wasn’t damp, but she could feel tons of rock pressing down on her.

For all that, the room itself was actually quite cosy. A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace to her left, and there was a couch and two chairs grouped around a low table in front of her. The edges of the room were shrouded in darkness, as the only other light came from several candles, scattered around the room.

Two men were sitting on the couch, each studying a large book. The younger man suddenly flinched, and pressed a palm to his forehead, dropping the book to the floor.

“Harry?” The older man leant towards him, anxiously. “What is it?”

“My scar,” Harry hissed out between gritted teeth. And then he looked up . . . and straight at Phoebe. “Who are you?” he asked.

Phoebe blinked. He could see her? Her premonitions weren’t usually interactive.

The older man looked up and around. He obviously couldn’t see her. “Harry, there’s no-one there,” he said, softly.

The younger man rolled his eyes, eyes that were almost the same colour as Chris’. In fact, Phoebe realised, this young man looked a lot like Chris. “I’ll show you later, Severus,” he said. “But I think this has something to do with my vision and Voldemort.”

“I have no idea who that is,” Phoebe said. “I was looking for information about the Source.”

“The . . . Source?” Harry repeated, slowly. “The Source of all Evil?” He exchanged looks with Severus. And really, Phoebe thought, what kind of sadistic monster named their kid Severus?

“You know him?” she asked.

“No; I had a vision about Voldemort, but he met up with something that called itself the Source,” the young man told her.

“So you had the same premonition I did,” she realised. “And if I’ve come to you, then he must be returning here. Wherever here is.” She turned in a circle, trying to get some kind of hint as to where they were. She looked back at the men on the couch. “Where is here, anyway?”

“Scotland,” Harry said. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. “I guess this won’t be so weird to you . . . we’re in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to ask, ‘what the hell?’, blinked hard several times . . .

. . . and found herself back in her own attic, looking at Piper and Chris.

“Phoebe? Phoebe!” Piper was repeating, waving her hand in front of Phoebe’s eyes.

“Whoa,” Phoebe breathed out, and grasped the podium the Book was resting on. Her knees felt shaky.

“Aunt Pheebs?” Chris asked. He grasped her elbow to help balance her. “What happened?”

“I think I just had an interactive premonition,” Phoebe said, breathlessly.

Piper and Chris glanced at each other. “Huh?” said Piper.

“I just saw two men, in an underground room somewhere . . . and one of them saw me,” she explained. “He had the same dream that I did, only I think they’re after the other guy I saw in it.”

“So did you find out where they are?” asked Chris.

“Oh, yeah,” said Phoebe. She looked at Piper. “You’d better call Paige home. She needs to Orb us to Scotland.”

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

“Interesting,” Severus mused once Harry had finished relating what he’d just seen. “If this . . . witch, and whoever else she has with her, are looking for the Source as we’re after Voldemort, then it means he can be killed, too.”

 

“I wonder how long it’ll take them to get here.” Harry retrieved his book from the floor where he’d dropped it. “Where can we put them?”

 

“We could always ask Albus to put them in some of the spare staff quarters,” Severus said. He closed his own book and put it aside, before getting to his feet and heading for the kitchenette. He thought he’d probably need coffee while they debated strategy.

 

“And how will we explain their presence to him? He doesn’t believe the vision was real,” Harry pointed out, twisting himself round to sit sideways on the settee to keep Severus in view.

 

“Well, they can’t stay down here in the dungeons,” scoffed Severus. “And Hogsmeade could be further away than we’d like, if the Source and Voldemort happen to find us before we find them.”

 

“The Room of Requirement?” suggested Harry.

 

Severus shook his head as he came back with two mugs. He handed one to Harry, who sniffed at it dubiously. “Yours is tea,” the older man assured him. “The Room wouldn’t work, because we couldn’t guarantee that nobody else would use it whilst they weren’t in it.”

 

“Really?” Harry frowned, puzzled. “I didn’t think there were that many people still here who knew about it.”

 

“Oh, Harry, did you really think you and your little group were the only ones who ever discovered the Room of Requirement?” Severus asked, amused. Harry scowled at him. “The students always find it, one way or another.”

 

“Fine, fine, the Room is out, too,” agreed Harry. “We can think of something; we should have a couple of days, at least—”

 

He was interrupted by the wards around Severus’ quarters shimmering. The two professors felt them flex, almost as if they were catching something and bouncing it off again, and then there was a muffled thump from the corridor outside.

 

“Owww!” they heard a voice complain, along with a second voice demanding, “What was that?!”

 

Wands instantly drawn, the two men were on their feet and aiming at the door. It didn’t sound as those whatever – or whoever – was outside had come to attack them, but better safe than sorry. Severus flicked his wand at his door, and it became transparent, allowing them to see what was going on outside.

 

Two women were picking themselves up off the floor. Harry recognised one of them as the witch he’d seen in his vision before.

 

“Hey!” he said. “Severus, she’s the witch I saw! The brunette.” He gestured to the woman on the right.

 

“How did she get here?” Severus wondered out loud. “They couldn’t have apparated – not all the way from America, and certainly not into Hogwarts!”

 

Harry looked at him. “Guess there’s only one way to find out,” he said, and started for the door.

 

Just as he reached out to touch the door handle, there was a faint musical sound, and a cloud of small blue-white spheres descended from the ceiling. Once it reached the floor, it materialised into yet another woman and a young man. Harry and Severus exchanged surprised looks.

 

“What are you guys doing?” the newly arrived woman asked. Even through the door, the professors could tell that she was biting back a smile.

 

“I couldn’t get in!” one of the other two women, the one Harry didn’t know, whined. “Something bounced me away.”

 

The young man snorted. “Did you ever think of knocking?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the women, who looked at each other, sheepishly. He turned to the dark-haired woman beside him, who was very obviously pregnant. “Please don’t let her teach me manners,” he said.

 

“Hey!” the woman objected, indignantly. “My manners are fine, thank you very much!”

 

“Did you knock?” the dark-haired woman asked, knowingly.

 

The other one sighed. “Well, no,” she admitted.

 

“I rest my case,” the young man interjected. “So perhaps we should knock now?”

 

“No need,” Harry interjected, throwing open the dungeon door. He’d lowered his wand, but he didn’t return it to its holster. Just because they didn’t seem dangerous didn’t mean they weren’t. The two women closest to him jumped in surprise, and spun round to face him. “I’ve no idea how you got here, or through the wards, but welcome to Hogwarts.”

 

 

---

Piper watched with interest as this young stranger, who looked a lot like Chris except with darker hair, gazed intently at Phoebe, then turned to someone behind him and nodded.

 

An older man, taller and with eyes that looked black, although with the same coloured hair, appeared in the doorway too. His nose was quite . . . Roman, was the kindest she could come up with, but in a strange way, it suited him, and drew attention inwards and upwards to his eyes.

 

The man laid a hand on the doorframe, and murmured something she didn’t catch, and something ran down the doorway in a shimmering, rippling curtain. “I have lowered my wards,” he said, with a pointed look at Paige. “You may enter my quarters, now.”

 

Ooh, that voice! Piper thought. It was deep and smooth, although with a hint of rasp that played pleasantly along her nerve-endings. She startled as her unborn baby suddenly awoke and turned over, then smiled and ran a hand over her stomach. Looked like mini-Chris liked the stranger’s voice, too.

 

Big Chris’ hand on her elbow made Piper realise that her sisters were already heading into the room. Following them, she was just in time to see one of the chairs near the fireplace abruptly change from over-stuffed to almost hard-backed. Phoebe and Paige were gaping at the chair, and even Piper blinked a few times. Chris was giving the men a speculative look.

 

“How did you do that?” Phoebe asked, glancing over at the men.

 

“Yeah, I didn’t hear any spell,” Paige agreed.

 

The older man raised an eyebrow at her. “I used a normal nonverbal Transfiguration spell,” he replied, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“I’m sorry, you used what?” asked Phoebe, peering at him in confusion.

 

“I Transfigured it,” the man repeated, more slowly this time. He glanced at Piper. “I thought this one would best suit for a late pregnancy.”

 

“Yeah, the other might look comfy, but trying to pull yourself out of deep cushions gets real old, real fast,” she agreed.

 

“Uh, I hate to sound like an idiot,” Paige interjected, “but what’s Transfiguration?”

 

Now it was the two men’s turn to gape – at them.

 

“You don’t know what Transfiguration is?” the younger one asked, finally. He exchanged glances with the older man. “But . . . aren’t you a witch?” he finally said, hesitantly.

 

“Of course I’m a witch!” Paige snapped, drawing herself up indignantly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

 

Piper could see where this was going – and it was nowhere good. She gave a short, sharp whistle to catch everyone’s attention. “Okay, people,” she said once they were all looking at her. “Perhaps we should all calm down and introduce ourselves before anything else. And I’ve gotta sit down.” She made her way over to the changed chair and sank into it with a groan. Orbing might have been easier than normal flying, but it had still been a long way to Scotland.

 

Looking abashed, her sisters settled on the couch, and Chris perched himself on the arm of it nearest to her. The young man settled in the other armchair, whilst the older one stayed standing stiffly beside the fireplace.

 

“Right,” the young man said, smiling warily at them all. “This is Severus Snape, and I’m Harry Potter.” He said it as though expecting them all to gasp in awe, but the sisters just gave him blank looks.

 

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Phoebe said before Piper could speak up. “I’m Phoebe Halliwell, one of the Charmed Ones. This is Chris Perry, my sister Paige Matthews, and my other sister Piper.”

 

Piper raised her eyebrows at the oh-so-casual tossing in of their Charmed status. Or Phoebe’s Charmed status, at least. But, interestingly, both the other men – Severus and Harry – looked just as blank as the sisters themselves had looked a moment ago.

 

“The . . . charmed ones?” Severus finally asked, puzzled.

 

“Yes, the Charmed Ones,” Phoebe replied. Her brow furrowed when this still didn’t produce the response she was obviously expecting. “Haven’t you guys heard of us?”

 

Severus looked at Harry again, who looked back at him and shrugged. “No,” Severus said. “And you’ve apparently never heard of the Boy-Who-Lived.”

 

“The Boy-Who-Lived?” Paige snorted in disdain. “Who’s that? And what kind of a name is it, anyway?”

 

“I’m the Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said. He was beginning to frown now, too. “And it’s about the same kind of name as ‘the charmed ones’.” He crossed his arms and gave Phoebe and Paige a pointed look.

 

Piper had to concentrate very hard not to burst out laughing as Harry and Phoebe gave each other identical puzzled frowns. The muffled cough from Chris at her side indicated that he felt the same amusement.

 

The sound of a throat clearing came from where Severus was standing. “Perhaps we should start from the beginning . . . ?” he suggested.

 

 

---

Severus snorted internally to himself. Despite Harry’s numerous protestations about wanting a ‘normal life’ and to ‘not be recognised’, he was obviously put out that the women in front of them had never heard of him before.

 

The one with the incredibly short hair, Phoebe, he believed she’d called herself, was locked in a staring match with Harry, while the pale-skinned woman beside her – was that Paige, or Piper? he wondered – had her arms folded and a vaguely sulky look on her face.

 

The young man and the other dark-haired woman appeared to be stifling amusement, and Severus felt his own bubble up again.

 

He cleared his throat forcefully – wouldn’t do for Harry to think Severus was laughing at him, even if he was – to bring their attention to himself. “Perhaps we should start from the beginning?” he said.

 

“All right,” Phoebe agreed, finally dragging her gaze away from Harry’s. “We’ll go first.” She leaned back on the settee, making herself comfortable. “Through our maternal heritage, we’re witches.” She gestured at the four of them. Severus raised an eyebrow. She was including the young man as a witch? “We each have powers; one that came to us whenever we found out we were magical, and several others that have cropped up as our powers grew. My power is premonition. Last night, I apparently had a premonition whilst I was asleep.”

 

Severus opened his mouth to ask how she could be certain it had been a ‘premonition’ – and was that anything like Divination? – if she’d been asleep, but one of her sisters held up a hand.

 

“Don’t ask,” the pregnant one said, dryly. “She’s sure of it.”

 

“Anyway,” Phoebe continued, forcefully, glaring at her sister, “in my premonition I saw the Source of All Evil, along with some thing with red eyes, making plans to return from wherever they are. Now I don’t know about the other thing, but we’ve vanquished the Source, twice. We’d really rather not have to do it a third time.”

 

“Sounds fair enough,” Harry said. He glanced up at Severus, who nodded for him to take the lead, then sat forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees. “Back in the 1950’s a boy, a wizard, was born called Tom Riddle. He was born in an orphanage, and left there when his mother died just after. There was apparently something . . . not quite right about him. He liked to hurt people, and gain power over them. Eventually, he came to school here, at Hogwarts, and ended up indirectly killing a student.

 

“After he left Hogwarts, he gained followers, and eventually began killing people. By the time I was born in 1980, we were in the midst of war, and Riddle was winning. Some time before my birth, a prophecy was made regarding his downfall. Part of it was overheard, and taken to Riddle. There were two boys it could have been about, and one of them was me.”

 

“His family went into hiding, but were betrayed by a friend of theirs,” Severus took up the tale. “Riddle, or the Dark Lord Voldemort as he had renamed himself, killed Harry’s parents, but something went wrong, and his attempt to kill Harry backfired on him, turning him into nothing more than a spirit.

 

“When Harry was in his fourth year here, Riddle’s servant, the one who betrayed the Potters, did a ritual to return him to life. After that, we descended into war again, although the Ministry of Magic did their best to deny his return for almost a year, and really didn’t do much else after that.”

 

Harry continued, “It was discovered that Riddle was so desperate for immortality that he’d split his soul several times, creating things called Horcruxes. As long as they existed, he couldn’t be killed. It took me and my friends a year to find and destroy the damn things, but after that there was a huge battle, here at Hogwarts, and I killed Voldemort.

 

“Then, last night, I apparently had the same, uh, dream as you did,” he added, looking at Phoebe. “The thing with red eyes was Voldemort. He didn’t really look anywhere close to human at the end there,” he concluded, shaking his head in remembrance.

 

“So it sounds like we don’t want either of them coming back,” Paige said. She’d unfolded her arms and was listening so intently that Severus almost expected her to start making notes. “Okay . . . so how do we stop them?”

 

There was silence for a moment as they all contemplated this.

 

“How did you defeat the Source before?” Harry asked, curiously.

 

“We called on the power of our ancestors,” Phoebe told him. “How did you defeat . . . uh, your guy?”

 

“Voldemort,” Harry said. “Or Riddle, if that’s easier. He sent a Killing Curse at me, but it, ah, bounced back on him.”

 

“So you couldn’t do it again?” Paige asked, looking slightly disappointed.

 

Harry and Severus exchanged looks, then Harry raised his eyebrows in question, and Severus shrugged.

 

“We don’t know,” Severus responded, finally. “It was the same thing that happened the first time he tried it, but nobody knows just what happened that night, and the circumstances were different the second time.”

 

“I think your best bet is making sure they don’t return at all,” Chris interjected. He’d been silent up until now, obviously taking things in and thinking. “After all, they can’t do much if they’re trapped in a Demonic Wasteland.”

 

“Uh-oh,” Paige suddenly said. Everyone looked at her. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She looked apologetically at Phoebe. “Cole managed to gain powers and escape from there.”

 

“Cole?” Harry queried.

 

Phoebe sighed. “Cole is . . . was my ex-husband. He was half human, half demon. His demon half got vanquished, but it apparently left a void in him. When we defeated the Source the first time, his powers ended up in Cole, and he became the new Source.” Her voice broke, and she bit her lip.

 

“We had to vanquish Cole, too, eventually,” Piper said, giving Phoebe a quick glance before looking back up to meet Severus’ gaze. “But because of his human half, he ended up in a Demonic Wasteland where all the other vanquished demons went. He discovered a way to gain their powers and he came back.”

 

“Unfortunately,” Paige carried on, “it meant he was invincible.”

 

“Really?” Severus folded his arms, thoughtfully, leaning against the back of Harry’s chair. “Invincible doesn’t usually mean completely invincible. There’s usually some weak spot, no matter how well guarded.”

 

“No, Cole was pretty much invincible,” Piper disagreed, shaking her head at the remembrance of the scene she and Paige had walked in on when Phoebe had been kidnapped by an Egyptian demon. “Believe me, nothing killed him. We tried, the demons tried, he tried! Nothing worked.”

 

“Something obviously worked,” Harry pointed out.

 

“It was something Cole did, not us,” Paige said. She shivered, remembering the alternate universe Cole had thrust them all into – one where she’d been killed before ever even knowing her sisters existed. “Believe me, it’s not something we can do again.”

 

Silence descended again, longer than before, as the six of them wracked their brains to come up with a solution to what seemed an insurmountable problem.

 

“This is not working,” Severus said, eventually. “I believe we all need a break, to go away and think about this for a while.”

 

“Perhaps we should sleep on it, then see what we can come up with tomorrow,” Harry suggested.

 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Paige agreed.

 

“Well, perhaps not the sleeping part,” Phoebe added, “but . . . oh, you know what I mean!” She waved a dismissive hand.

 

“Would you like for me to arrange rooms here in the castle?” Severus queried. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain it to Albus, but he was sure he could think of something.

 

“No, that’s okay,” Piper said. She reached out a hand to Chris, who helped to pull her upright. “We’ll Orb home. I need to get back to Wyatt.”

 

“C’mon, Pheebs,” Paige added, getting to her feet. “I have to get back to work.”

 

“You didn’t quit your temp job?” Phoebe frowned at her sister as she, too, stood up. “Paige . . . !”

 

“I thought it best not to until we knew a bit more about what was going on!” Paige said, defensively. “You know that’s how the magical community finds me!”

 

“Paige, I really don’t think—” Phoebe started, but her voice was cut off as Paige grabbed hold of her hand, and the two of them disappeared in a swirl of blue-white lights.

 

“Sisters,” said Piper, wryly. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t murder ‘em.” She smiled as Harry snorted with laughter. “We’ll probably come back around the same time tomorrow, maybe a little earlier.”

 

“And hopefully Paige and Phoebe will remember there’s a time difference,” Chris put in. This time, it was Piper who snorted.

 

“Yeah, we hope,” she said. She grinned at Chris. “C’mon, we’d better get back there before any major damage gets done. We just got the grandfather clock repaired again as it is.”

 

“Sure, Mom.” Chris smiled back, gripped her hand tighter, and they disappeared in the same faintly-musical swirl of lights.

 

The two wizards stared at the space where the four Americans had been standing.

 

“Mum?!” Severus said, surprised. “She doesn’t look old enough!”

 

  “Merlin, I wish I knew how they did that!” Harry added with a sigh of longing.

Halliwell Manor, San Francisco

The Manor was resoundingly empty when Chris and Piper Orbed into the foyer. They both looked around, surprised.

 

“Paige?” Piper called up the stairs. “Phoebe?” There was no response. “Phoebe!” she called again, louder. Still nothing.

 

Piper felt a shiver of apprehension go down her spine. It was too eerily similar to the time the Source’s assassin, Shax, had attacked them at the Manor, and Phoebe had headed up to the Book, and seemingly disappeared.

 

In reality – according to Leo – Phoebe had been in the Underworld, hiding out with Cole, after making a deal with the Source to help turn back time to before Shax’s first assassination attempt and thereby save Piper’s life.

 

It had all been for naught anyway, as Leo, stuck in the Underworld with Cole and Phoebe, had returned too late to be able to heal both Piper and her older sister, Prue. Having to decide between Prue’s fatal head injury and Piper’s fatal abdominal wound, Leo had followed his heart and saved Piper.

 

Sometimes, Piper still felt like blaming Leo for that.

 

“Mom?”

 

A touch on her shoulder made her jump. She spun around, hands rising to either freeze or explode . . . and froze herself when she realised it was just Chris.

 

“Sorry,” she sighed, apologetically, dropping her hands to her sides. “Bad memories, that’s all. Could you go find Phoebe, please?”

 

“Sure, Mom.” One corner of Chris’ mouth curled up, wryly. “Paige probably dropped her in the middle of the ocean mid-Orb.”

 

A laugh burst out of Piper before she realised it, and she laughed again, more naturally, at herself. “Probably,” she agreed. “But better check anyway.”

 

“Sure thing. Back in a tick.” And Chris Orbed away in a swirl of blue-white lights.

 

He returned, ten minutes later, with a Phoebe who was drenched to the skin and spitting mad.

 

“Pheebs?” Piper tried valiantly to swallow her laughter, as Phoebe did not look amused in the slightest. “Did Paige drop you in the ocean?”

 

“No,” Phoebe spat, wrenching her arm away bad-temperedly from Chris. “She ‘dropped’ me right in the middle of downtown . . . in the pouring rain . . . with no car, and no purse!”

 

“Oh, dear,” Piper chortled. If she hadn’t sent Chris, Phoebe would have faced an hour’s walk to get back to the Manor. “Uh, I mean,” she said, hastily, seeing the glare Phoebe turned on her, “bad Paige!”

 

“I’m going to go change,” Phoebe announced, and squelched her way towards the stairs.

 

Chris and Piper barely waited until she was out of ear-shot before they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

 

 

---

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

“Did you think of anything?”

 

Severus paused, one hand on the back of a chair, and glanced at where Harry was all but bouncing in his seat like an over-excited puppy.

 

“Still haven’t quite got the hang of the typical morning greeting, have you?” he said as he took his own seat. A large mug of coffee appeared at his place. He had the house-elves very well trained by now.

 

“Good morning,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Did you think of anything?”

 

“No, unfortunately, I did not,” Severus had to admit. “But it’s early yet – something will come, no doubt.” He took a large sip of his coffee, and spent a moment allowing it to spread through his bloodstream. “Of course,” he continued, “it all depends on how precisely Voldemort and the . . . uh, Source intend to return.”

 

“It does?” Harry tilted his head in puzzlement.

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “If Voldemort returns as he was, then a simple Avada Kadavra will be enough to kill him, but you cannot cast the Killing Curse on a wraith or spirit,” he explained.

 

“Because they’re already dead,” Harry said, nodding to show his understanding.

 

“Precisely,” said Severus, giving a sharp nod of his own.

 

“You’re not still on about that, are you, my boys?” a voice interrupted from behind them.

 

Harry gave a jerk of surprise and uttered a shrill yelp – although no doubt he would claim it was a manly yelp, Severus thought – and spun round in his chair to face Albus, who was staring at them with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Severus, who had caught sight of the Headmaster approaching out of the corner of his eye, calmly sipped his coffee.

 

“Perhaps now that the school year has ended, you should go on holiday yourself; rest, relax . . . forget about Voldemort,” Albus continued, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Albus, really, I’m not imagining—” Harry started, only to be interrupted by Albus’ raised hand.

 

“Some sun, some time alone. How about Portugal, my boy?” Albus queried. “Or perhaps Spain?”

 

“Or perhaps America,” Severus suggested, wickedly.

 

Harry glared at Severus, but then apparently caught on to Severus’ train of thought, and nodded, slowly. “Like a road trip, for instance?” he said.

 

Albus beamed, delightedly. “That’s the spirit, dear boy!” he exclaimed, clapping Harry on the shoulder once again. “I shall expect postcards – lots and lots of postcards!” Still beaming, he moved further down the table towards his own seat.

 

“You really think we need to go to America?” Harry asked, softly, once Albus was out of ear-shot.

 

“We may, but it also gives us a valid reason for knowing Phoebe and the others,” Severus pointed out. “One that doesn’t involve visions Albus doesn’t want to know about.” His breakfast finally appeared on the table in front of him, and he turned his attention to it.

 

However, he could still see Harry out of the corner of his eye, anxiously fidgeting. With a sigh, Severus looked up at him. “Why don’t you go and start researching,” he suggested. “Try the Restricted Section first.”

 

“All right,” Harry agreed, amiably, bouncing to his feet. He took a few steps away from the table, and then paused, before sheepishly turning around again. “Uh, what exactly am I supposed to be researching?” he asked.

 

Severus heroically restrained from rolling his eyes in exasperation. “How about how to banish a spirit permanently after it has returned from death,” he said. “Or what sorts of methods it could use to return.”

 

“Right!” Harry nodded briskly, and started to walk away again.

 

Severus finally gave in, rolled his eyes, and returned to his breakfast.

 

 

---

Halliwell Manor, San Francisco

 

“Hear these words,

Hear my cry,

Spirit from the other side.

Come to me,

I summon thee,

Cross now the great divide,” Phoebe finished lighting the last candle as she spoke and stepped out of the circle, holding the image of her mother and grandmother in her head. The Elders didn’t believe her, but maybe the ghostly plane had heard or felt something.

 

Two columns of misty white lights swirled down from the ceiling and formed in the circle of white candles, solidifying into ethereal bodies, one of whom was facing away from Phoebe, and the other facing to her left.

 

“So she says—” “Did you see his face—” Two voices overlapped, before the owners abruptly realised they were not where they had been. Making confused sounds, they spun round.

 

“Hi, guys!” Phoebe greeted them. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the tracksuit bottoms she had put on after having to shower and change. When she next saw Paige . . .

 

“Phoebe!” her mother exclaimed. “I was in the middle of a conversation!”

 

“As was I.” Her grandmother gave her a stern look.

 

“Well, it’s not like I can tell when it’s convenient, ya know,” Phoebe muttered.

 

The two older women sighed and glanced at each other.

 

“No, I suppose not,” matriarch Penny Halliwell admitted, and stepped out of the circle, becoming corporeal as she did so. “Hello, darling.”

 

“Hi, Grams.” Phoebe hugged her grandmother tightly. It was almost six years since Penny had died, changing Phoebe and her sisters’ lives forever, leading them to discover they were witches.

 

“Where’s Paige and Piper?” the other ghost enquired, peering around the attic.

 

“Patty!” Penny scolded, turning to face her daughter with her hands on her hips. “Can’t you even say hello to Phoebe first?”

 

“Oh, right.” Sheepishly, Patty smiled at Phoebe. “Hi, honey.”

 

“Hi, Mom. Paige is at her new temp job—”

 

“Another one?” Penny interrupted, raising her eyebrows.

 

“—and Piper’s downstairs playing with Wyatt,” Phoebe finished, pulling a mild face at her grandmother. “Listen, I called you guys for help.” She wished she could have summoned Prue, as well, but the Elders hadn’t allowed her to visit them yet. Apparently Phoebe and Piper weren’t ready to see their oldest sister. Phoebe wondered just when they would be ready, or if the Elders would use that as an excuse until they were old and grey and ready to meet Prue on her side of the divide, rather than theirs.

 

“Not another slime demon, is it?” Penny asked, frowning in remembered distaste.

 

Phoebe had to stifle a giggle, as her mother mouthed slime demon? from behind Penny’s back. “No, Grams,” she finally replied. “I had a premonition . . .”

 

 

---

It took a while to explain everything – and convince both Penny and Patty that she hadn’t lost her mind and hadn’t just had a bad dream.

 

“I wasn’t the only one who had the dream,” she finally pointed out, exasperatedly.

 

“And you trust them?” Penny asked, sceptically.

 

“What, you think they’re just setting us up?” Phoebe asked. “Why? They want to stop their guy coming back as much as we want to stop the Source.”

 

“And you’re sure they want to stop him?” Penny pointed out. “Not join him?”

 

Phoebe opened her mouth to hotly deny this, then paused. They really didn’t know a lot – or indeed, anything – about the two male witches.

 

“Okay, Grams,” she agreed. “We’ll be careful. But in the meantime, could you and Mom still check up there for us?”

 

“Sure, honey,” Patty agreed, and almost instantly disappeared in a swirl of bright lights. Phoebe raised her eyebrows.

 

“That must have been some conversation I interrupted,” she said, half-jokingly.

 

Penny made a noise deep in her throat that could have meant anything and stepped back into the circle of candles, becoming transparent again. “I’ll let you know what, if anything, I find,” she said, and then paused to eye Phoebe, thoughtfully. “And I just might check to see if anyone knows anything about these British witches, too,” she added, and swirled away before Phoebe could respond.

 

“Thanks, Grams,” she muttered, leaning over to lift one of the candles. With a small puff, she blew the flame out.

 

 

---

A Demonic Wasteland, the Underworld

“What is this place?” the shade of Voldemort asked.

 

“The edge of the Demonic Wastelands,” the Source replied. It spread the dark mist of its wings as a hot wind roared past them.

 

“Demons?” Voldemort sounded interested, but wary.

 

The misty column that made up the Source turned to look at its equally misty partner. “You have not dealt with demons before?” it asked.

 

“No. Nothing I read about them said they could give me what I wanted,” Voldemort admitted.

 

“And what is it that you want?” the Source asked, in what was almost a purr.

 

“Immortality.” Voldemort looked around at the misty grey landscape. “Though not quite this way.”

 

“I know several demons who grant immortality,” the Source informed him, vaguely puzzled.

 

His companion snorted in disdain. “But only at a cost,” he responded. “I was not, and am not, interested in petty bargaining of that sort. I want true immortality, that is not conditioned on anything, or anyone, else.”

 

“Very well, then.” The Source spread its misty wings again, the edges trembling eagerly as another hot wind rushed past. “Let us get started.”

 

An instant later, the mist was trailing upwards, towards the blood-red mist that indicated a sky. A second later, Voldemort’s own mist was trailing after it.

 

 

---

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

Severus found Harry in the library, his head resting on his folded arms, surrounded by towering piles of books. It appeared that they were held back from falling on his head only by the grace of magic.

 

“Did you find anything?” Severus asked, and bit back a smile as Harry jumped and jerked himself upright, his eyes wheeling frantically around the otherwise empty room.

 

Seeing it was only Severus, Harry scowled at him and slumped back into his chair. “No,” he responded, turning the scowl onto the books on the table. “Plenty of ways to bring a spirit back, or to banish them to haunt somewhere else, but nothing to permanently get rid of one.”

 

“Well, maybe the others will have found something,” Severus suggested, sitting down opposite Harry. “It may require a combination of our magics to defeat both.”

 

As if his words had been a signal, there was a faint musical sound from outside the library, and an instant later, the head of one of the sisters – Paige? Severus thought – appeared around the door. She cast her eyes around the large room, and her eyes widened in either disbelief or awe.

 

“My God,” she breathed. “What is this place?”

 

“Paige!” a voice snapped from outside. “Are they in there? Where are we?”

 

Harry and Severus exchanged looks. “Never subtle, are they?” Harry said, beginning to grin.

 

“They’d fit right in with Gryffindor,” Severus agreed, amused. He sat back in his chair, and his movement caught Paige’s eye.

 

“Oh, they’re here!” she confirmed to whoever was behind her, and pushed open the door.

 

Phoebe followed her in, and she, too, gaped at the tall shelves. “Wow,” she said, spinning in a slow circle. “All these belong to you?” she asked absently, over her shoulder.

 

Severus snorted. “Of course not,” he informed her. “This is the Hogwarts Library.”

 

“So many magic books,” Paige breathed, shaking her head.

 

“You don’t have magic books?” asked Harry, tilting his head.

 

“We have our Book of Shadows, obviously,” Phoebe responded. A brief look of confusion flashed across her face. “It’s our family spell book,” she continued, before either Harry or Severus could even ask. “Handed down from our ancestor, Melinda Warren.”

 

“Uh, Phoebe,” Paige interrupted. “Perhaps we should get Chris to find some of that potion for them?”

 

“What potion?” Phoebe and Severus chorused. They blinked at each other, as Harry hid a smile behind his hand.

 

“The potion that Chris had that allowed us to block you?” Paige persisted.

 

“If you, or Chris, have the recipe, then I could probably brew it myself,” Severus insisted, looking slightly put out. “I am a Potions Master.”

 

“Block you from what?” Harry asked at the same time.

 

Phoebe sighed, and finally tore her gaze away from the books to look at them both. “I’m an empath,” she said, reluctantly. “It’s a fairly new power, and I haven’t quite got it under control yet.”

 

“You’re . . . an empath,” Severus repeated, sceptically. He glanced sideways at Harry. “That’s almost as bad as ‘your greatest power is love’.”

 

“Hey!” objected Harry and Phoebe simultaneously. “Speaking of Chris,” Harry continued, “where is he?”

 

“He and Piper should be here soon,” Paige said, wandering over and beginning to scan the books on the table beside Harry. “Piper had to take Wyatt to Magic School.” She glanced up as both Harry and Severus snorted. “Huh,” she said, thoughtfully. “I guess this place shouldn’t come as such a surprise to us,” she carried on, slightly ruefully.

 

“May I ask who Wyatt is?” Severus queried.

 

“Wyatt’s her son,” Phoebe told him, smiling at just the thought of her nephew. For a while there, Piper had been worried that she’d never have children at all, due to all the injuries she’d picked up from fighting demons.

 

“And . . . Chris is her son, too?” At Phoebe’s raised eyebrows, Severus made a small movement with his shoulders that wasn’t quite a shrug. “When you were here before, he called her mum.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s . . .” Paige exchanged glances with her sister. “Complicated,” she finished.

 

Just as Severus opened his mouth to respond, Harry kicked him under the table. Glaring at the younger professor, Severus was interrupted again – this time by the blue-white column of light that appeared beside them and then solidified into Chris and Piper.

 

“Hey . . . wow,” Piper interrupted herself, catching sight of where they were.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Hogwarts Library, not all theirs, tons of books. We already covered that,” Phoebe added, waving her hand dismissively. She looked at Chris. “Do you have any more of that empath-blocking potion?”

 

“No, and I can’t get any more made, either,” Chris said. “Why?”

 

“If we’re going to be here for any length of time, they’ll need it,” Paige explained, gesturing at the two British wizards.

 

“If you have a recipe, I may be able to brew it myself,” Severus interjected.

 

“Not a written one, I don’t.” Chris tapped his temple with a finger. “It’s all in here.”

 

Severus slipped his wand out from its holster. “Accio spare parchment and quill!” he ordered, and gave his wand a quick flick. Puzzled, the Americans stared at him, and then all four did a double-take as the requested items zoomed through the air past them to land neatly on the table in front of Severus. With a smirk, he pushed them over towards Chris.

 

“What was that?” asked Phoebe, sounding breathless.

 

“A simple Summoning charm,” replied Severus, airily. He nudged the parchment and quill again. “The recipe?” he prodded.

 

“Uh . . . right.” Chris gingerly reached out as though expecting either quill or parchment to leap up and attach him, or vanish. Once assured they wouldn’t, he began scribbling, although it took him a few tries to get the hang of writing with the quill.

 

Severus was just leaning over to watch when there was a sudden, high-pitched wail. It was almost higher than they could hear, but with an undertone that sounded like rocks, falling down a mountainside. At the same time, Harry suddenly let out a sharp hiss, and clamped his hands over his forehead.

 

“Harry?” Severus rested a hand on his colleague’s arm. The wail seemed to double in intensity for a moment, then as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. “What was that?” he asked out loud, not really expecting an answer.

 

Chris looked just as confused as he himself no doubt looked, and Paige had the far-off look of someone trying to remember something, but Piper and Phoebe were exchanging dark looks.

 

“Mom?” Chris prompted.

 

“There are gargoyles on this castle, aren’t there?” Piper asked, looking at Severus. Harry slowly lowered his hands to look at her. The lightning bolt on his forehead was inflamed.

 

“What does that—” Severus began, but paused at the seriousness of her expression. “Yes,” he said instead. “There are gargoyles in the castle.”

 

“Gargoyles aren’t just ugly stone ornaments,” Phoebe explained. “They’re magical guardians; an alarm system, basically. We’ve—” she gestured between herself and Piper, and vaguely included Paige “—heard them before.” She looked at her younger sister. “You were probably more concerned with . . . who was it, Shane?”

 

“Ah!” Paige nodded thoughtfully, although she didn’t look happy.

 

“What are they a warning system for?” Harry asked, briefly examining his hand. “No blood,” he added in an aside to Severus. “He’s not close yet.”

 

“The gargoyles only cry when the Source surfaces into our world,” Piper said, running a hand soothingly over her rounded stomach.

 

“And my scar only hurts when Voldemort is nearby,” Harry said.

 

“Well, then,” Severus said, looking from one to the other. “It appears that we now have a major problem.”