BATHILDA BAGSHOT cupped the sides of Charlus' face, tilting her head to the side to make use of her one good eye to get a good look at him. It was like staring into the face of her old friend, Fleamont, a bittersweet wave of emotions washed over her. Out of all the people that had come to look at the old ruins of the Potter home, the last one she expected to show was Charlus. She wouldn't dare admit it out loud, but she had been one to believe that Charlus was as good as dead, wasting away his days in St Mungo's.

In his company was a woman, one Bathilda was not familiar with, but any friend of the Potters was a friend of hers.

"Maeve," Charlus spoke, " I want you to meet an old friend of the family, this is Bathilda Bagshot."

He said it so casually as if she was just another woman off the street, but the name was familiar to all those that decided to pay any mind during a magical history lesson. She could tell right away by Maeve's eyes opening wide that she had not been expecting to meet someone of such fame.

"Bathilda Bagshot as in the Bathilda Bagshot? The author of Hogwarts: A History and  A History of Magic?"

"Yes, child," Bathilda chuckled, " that would be me. Although, I haven't heard people speak of my name with such honour in a long time. Usually, they follow up my name with "she's still alive?" or "I wonder what the old bat is up to these days."

"Forgive me, Ms Bagshot," Maeve bowed her head, " it's just I've read all of your works, including The Oracle of Palombo. It truly is an honour to meet you. I had no idea that you lived around these parts."

"Oh, I've been around Godric's Hollow for quite some time now," Bathilda answered, " long enough that I watched this one grow up from his time in nappies to changing nappies of his nephew."

Charlus wasn't fully paying attention to the conversation between the two, glancing over his shoulder at them, but mostly, fixating his gaze on his old childhood home. Eventually, he abandoned their side, pushing through the gate and making his way towards the remains of the front. Maeve went to stop him initially, but Bathilda held up a frail hand, stopping her before she could.

"Let him go," Bathilda said, " it is his home."

"It might be dangerous," Maeve interjected, " who knows what's ready to fall apart after being left for so long. He could get hurt and he's only been released from hospital for a short time."

Even though she didn't agree with it, it seemed her opinion didn't matter because Charlus had already made his way to step into the main part of the home that was still standing.

"I've been watching over the place since it happened," Bathilda explained, both of them keeping an eye on Charlus, " since the Ministry left it as a monument to mark the day when it happened. I thought it was in poor taste, honestly. The statues of James and Lily with their boy was enough, they didn't have to keep the house up in this condition. But what do I know, I'm just a mad hag to them at this point. And since they decided to leave the cottage, I've been spending most afternoons, shooing away the teenagers around here."

Maeve didn't find herself all that surprised that teenagers decided to do such things, whether it was an act of bravery they believed it to be, or just to be funny, if they truly knew what had happened, perhaps they wouldn't have been so tactless.

"The muggle boys around here think it's a haunted house," Bathilda said, " they dare each other to head inside, sometimes spend the night. You know, to impress their little girlfriends. They never succeed in it though. They get too spooked. Can't blame them, even I get chills looking at the cottage, no matter how many times I stepped foot in there before it all happened."

"So you knew Charlus from the time he was a baby?" Maeve asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Oh yes," Bathilda nodded. " Perhaps I wasn't clear enough when I said I have been around here for quite some time. I was around here when Dumbledore was just a boy, running around. I was here before Charlus was even a speck of light in his father's eyes. Bless Fleamont and Euphemia, good people. Shame how they came down with Dragon Pox, it's brutal."

Maeve kept her astonishment to herself, trying to piece together just exactly how old Bathilda Bagshot was. She knew Dumbledore was no spring chicken, even if wizards and witches held longer life spans, and if Bathilda had been around when Dumbledore was just a child, she was defying the odds, even for magic.

There was a loud crashing sound as some debris became disturbed by Charlus' movement, leaving both women to look over. Maeve's face was full of panic until Charlus reappeared, offering a small wave of his hand to let her know that he was alright. She let out a sigh of relief and glanced down at her watch, wondering just how long Charlus was wanting to stay there. After all, she didn't understand why they were there in the first place, what was he looking for?

"Are you a friend of Charlus' from Hogwarts?"

Peering over, Maeve could see that Bathilda was eyeing her up and down as if she were suspicious of her.

"From St Mungo's," she answered, " I was...am Charlus' Healer until he's better."

"You know he's into men, right?"

As if Maeve needed a reminder with how much effort Charlus was attempting to put in to clear Sirius' name, she couldn't help but snort lightly to herself. Truly, it seemed that everyone believed that she only looked after Charlus because she wanted to be with him or expected him to fall in love with her.

"Yes, I am very much aware of that, thank you, Ms Bagshot."

After disappearing further into the house, Charlus was out of sight for a few minutes before both women voiced their concern. However, they knew that they simply couldn't call after him as he wouldn't respond. Maeve was thrilled to meet a magical legend, but at the same time, she really wanted to return to her flat. She was tired and there was still the task of getting Charlus settled for the evening.

But just as she went to enter the cottage ruins to get Charlus herself, she stopped as soon as she heard a menacing howling noise. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand and her grip tighten on the front gate. It seemed to come from inside and she still couldn't see Charlus.

"Wh-what, what is that?!"

Bathilda didn't look the least bit fazed and Maeve was beginning to think that the rumours of the woman being slightly batty really weren't that far off from the truth. And yet, moments later, she was swallowing her own thoughts when Charlus appeared, carrying the creature that made the awful noises.

It was a cat.

The cat was howling in Charlus' arms until he adjusted it, cradling the cat as if it were a baby. Suddenly, the howling died down as it turned into a heavy purr. It nuzzled against Charlus' hand as he continued to pet it, leaving Maeve with a bewildered expression. The last thing she had expected Charlus to emerge with was a cat. Was that why he had been so determined to return to Godric's Hollow, for a cat?

"Marmalade," Charlus said in a soft voice, " it was Lily's cat. She was still here, guarding the house."

Maybe at one point, the cat named Marmalade had been beautiful, but the state she was in left her looking quite sickly. Her orange fur was dull, patches of it missing revealing sore marks and her pink skin. The rest of her was covered in dirt and soot, and she was incredibly underweight as she was a bag of bones in Charlus' arms.  And yet, her purring was lively, as she continued to push her head into his hand, begging to be pet.

"She must've been what scared those village boys," Bathilda pondered out loud, " they always said they heard something howling. Makes sense, she must have kept guard of the house after everything happened. She was waiting for someone to come back for her. I wish I had known she was in there, she could have stayed with me or I would have offered the poor thing food and water."

Charlus turned to Maeve, meeting her gaze. "Can I keep her?" he asked, like a child asking their mother to keep a stray pet. "While I stay with you, can I keep her? I promise we won't stay long, I'll get my own place in no time."

Maeve lived in a pet-free environment, working long hours to the point where she knew she would only neglect a pet if she decided to keep one. She wasn't used to sharing her space with another person, let alone one with an animal, but how was she supposed to say no? It was Charlus' dead sister-in-law's pet.

"Yes, of course, she can stay," she answered, "we'll have to get her cleaned up though. She doesn't look to be in very good condition. Maybe a good bath, some water and some food, we'll see how she does."

That seemed to raise Charlus' spirits drastically and Maeve was thankful that it appeared time to head back to her flat. However, not all was said and done as Charlus clearly had more on his mind with Bathilda in his presence.

"Babs," he said, "I was just wondering if you knew what happened to Harry? Anything about what happened to him or where he went?"

In the midst of everything, Maeve had completely forgotten about Harry Potter. She had been so wrapped up in Charlus' health and his idea to clear Sirius' name, that she had forgotten all about the little boy. She wasn't sure if Bathilda was going to know anything, after all, hardly anyone seemed to know where he had vanished to after that night.

"Oh Charlus," the old woman sighed, " I have no idea. There was so much that happened that night, the Ministry was trying to keep everything hushed. I never thought to ask where he had been taken, I figured it was just among some of your relatives. I offered to watch over him, but Albus told me he had already made arrangements."

Charlus' nostrils flared in annoyance as soon as Dumbledore was mentioned. "He knows where Harry is, but he seems to be awfully busy. I wrote to him and I haven't gotten a response yet."

"Albus has always been a busy man," Bathilda said as if she was defending the other man. However, she couldn't ignore the frown on Charlus' face and neither could Maeve. "But...but I think I know of a way that you could speak with him personally."

Immediately, Charlus' eyes widened. "You mean, at Hogwarts? What if he doesn't wish to see me? He hasn't gone out of his way to respond, what if he just says no?"

"We'll have the element of surprise on our hands," Bathilda smiled, creasing the wrinkles around her eyes, " you see, I was invited as a guest speaker for History of Magic, simply because between you and me, Professor Binns has been struggling to keep students for all seven years. As soon as it's no longer mandatory they drop the class. But you can come with me as my little helper. He'll never see it coming. It's perfect."

Charlus had never taken Bathilda as one to initiate a surprise attack, but he wasn't complaining either. Anything to get into Hogwarts to confront Dumbledore and figure out what happened to Harry would be worth it.

"When are you expected at the castle?"

"Next week, can you handle waiting that long?"

"After six years, I think I can hold out for a few more days."