A Second Channe Through Time

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Page count: 13

The Burrow - Sunday 31st January 1982

The Marauders stepped out of the Floo into the Burrow — and were immediately swallowed whole by Molly Weasley.

"Oh, Hermione, dear!" Molly cried, crushing her against her apron. "I don't believe a word of what he said. Not a single word. You would never betray them. You would never betray us. I know that."

"—can't... breathe..." Hermione choked.

Molly gasped, released her, and smoothed her hair in apology while the room erupted into laughter.

"Thank you, Molly," Hermione said, smiling despite her bruised ribs.

Greetings followed in rapid-fire Weasley fashion:

A kiss to Bill's cheek. A new Dragon book pressed into Charlie's hands. A conspiratorial whisper to the twins, promising fireworks later. A polite conversation with Percy about his books and 'Eugene' the rat. A staring contest with Ron. Fussing over baby Ginny until she squealed.

But today wasn't just a Weasley family dinner.

Tonight was a White Lions meeting — their first proper one, and their largest. Kingsley had already arrived. Fabian and Gideon were stuck covering Moody's late patrol shift, but the Weasleys, the Marauders, and now even the Malfoys would be present.

The table had been enlarged, extra chairs conjured, and Molly's best dishes lined the counters. The kitchen hummed with warmth, laughter, and the scent of roast chicken.

Hermione slipped outside to greet the Malfoys before they reached the wards.

Draco spotted her instantly and wriggled free of Lucius's arms, practically launching himself at her.

"Mi-mi-mia!" he beamed.

"Hello, Draco," she laughed, catching him easily.

She shifted him onto her hip and led them toward the Burrow — only to feel the wards reject Lucius like a physical shove.

"Oh. Right." Hermione winced. "Sorry, I forgot. Those were my wards from the other timeline. They blocked anyone with the Dark Mark."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Charming."

"Are you certain we're welcome?" Narcissa asked, smoothing Draco's hair as he babbled into Hermione's neck.

"Yes," Hermione assured, her attention on the wand in her hand as she reworked the wards to slide over Lucius without issue. "They don't know the details yet, but they trust me. It'll be tense for a few minutes — because, well... Weasleys — but they'll understand once Kingsley verifies everything."

"Shacklebolt?" Lucius repeated, blinking slowly in surprise. "He's one of yours?"

"Yes," Hermione smirked. "He's been feeding us information on Dumbledore and Moody. Fabian and Gideon are, too. They're covering our tracks when Moody has them tailing us."

Lucius blinked again. "How many Aurors do you have working under you?"

Hermione shot him a look.

"They don't work for me. They work with me. Everyone makes their own choices — no orders, no coercion. We're a team, not a hierarchy."

The Malfoys exchanged small, impressed smiles.

"But," Hermione continued, "between Kingsley, the twins, eight Junior Aurors, and Sirius — if you count his past Auror training — that puts us at twelve. Dumbledore has far more, but that's because Moody follows him blindly."