A/N – This story was sparked by an idea that I had after reading ApAidan's fanfic The Assassin Wore White. While the fully fledged healers wear green from my stories, not white, they are protected. So credit to where credit is due. I am no doubt inspired by the great writing of others as well. Thank you all.

I have also changed some people's death dates and birthdays – this is would be a rewrite of JK's work and worth millions without changes. This is an attempt at something new using JK Rowling's wonderful story characters. If you are interested in canon, please read those, at least the first four. I can only read parts of book five, and then write of story of how Sirius is saved.

I want to apologize to anyone who speaks German as a native language. No insult is intended at all in this story. Truly. My boss is German, and I work with German and Austrian engineers that are the smartest people in the world. Our break room has the most fascinating array of languages at any given time.

Harry Potter and the Death-Eater's Daughter is finished, just needs a bit of beta work and polish. The next chapter is coming soon.

I am looking for a beta for this story. So please pm me if interested.

Chapter One – Finding Harry Potter

The healer struggled over the wet uneven cobblestones. She had just a short walk, then she could take the bus home. As a muggle-born, she was lucky to have had her apprenticeship at all when she started. Now a full healer for almost three months, she still had the worst shifts. It was just after 7 am after a twenty four hour shift surviving on small doses of pepper-up to stay awake, she didn't feel lucky.

The entire world celebrated the fall of the dark lord it seemed. Everyone except her. James and Lily, her friends, had been killed. Little Harry couldn't be found, not that she had given up, but with her work schedule, she had to get some sleep, at least a little, before she tried again. She and the Potter elves, brought together by this travesty.

Her anger burned. Dumbledore had to know the truth that her betrothed was innocent. He was there at the ceremony where Harry was named, and Alice was made godmother, Sirius his godfather, or was that dogfather, considering his animagus form?

Lily had apologized to her for not making her godmother when she and Sirius announced their engagement. Apparently, the not-former-anymore-Black family white sheep did have a bit of a reputation as a Lothario. Not that Christine Hammerstein was going to say anything. Yes, she was a maiden, and planned to stay that way until her wedding night, but in Hogwarts no one paid attention to the flat-chested, mudblood Ravenclaw bookworm. When she did speak, she asked too many questions, and when it was time to socialize, she froze.

She never really faced real temptation until she met the charming Sirius Black. By then her figure had improved and he got busy attacking her unprepared defenses.

He was working as a hit-wizard, and she had been assigned to a medic squad that night. Without doubt she saved his life, and later his sight as he had a long hospital stay, but so could have any competent healer's assistant. With the right potions at least. But he was grateful, and offered dinner. She was lonely, overworked and underappreciated, and curious about the wizarding world even then at almost twenty one. That was so long ago, in some ways.

Now, she had three missions in life. The first goal was to get Sirius released from prison. His mother was so proud of him now that he was serving time as a death-eater. Walburga Black had made sure that her son's inheritance was officially his. She knew that one day the Dark Lord would return, and he would reward all those that had been faithful, and punish the wicked muggles, mudbloods and half-bloods that roamed the earth.

Christine knew that her green healer robes meant that she was covered by the Covenant of the Oath, and that even the Dark Lord at the height of his power would not harm a healer on purpose, but still. It was hard listening to the old woman spew vile nonsense, but Lady Black wanted Christine to come to dinner once a week. The lady would often bestow gifts of jewelry or books on her, so she felt guilty about going, feeling a bit mercenary about it all. But she sold those gifts, quietly, for the best prices, and that gave her a bit more gold for her quests.

Her second quest was to find Harry. She knew a few things. Rubeus Hagrid had taken him somewhere for the headmaster. Getting that half giant to talk was not the problem. The problem was that he had been obliviated, and although he cooperated with her attempts to retrieve the memories, the work was done by a master obviator. She could find nothing of the final destination.

It was when he mentioned that he had Sirius' death-trap of a motor-bike that her mind went into calculations. Taking a baby, from the ruins, staying inside Britain. Had to be done at dark on Halloween.

The clever girl had a map girded out within hours of that discovery. Finding the baby, even though she had the tools and magic to do so, it would still take a long time to do. Fortunately, she and Sirius loved his godson, and she had played babysitter more than once for the Potters in order to attend meetings or to go off to battle.

She had baby drool, some of his favorite toys, and even a bit of blood on a cloth where he had bit his lip just over two months before. Christine hadn't had the heart to toss anything, and now was using everything to find him.

One of the books that she had been given was of borderline dark magic. Blood magic. There was a spell to make a token that would lead one to a lost child. It just required a drop of the child's blood.

While she was at work at the hospital, the Potter elves, all six of them, took the three tokens she had made and was looking for Harry. Grid by grid, block by block, house by house. They knew if they came across wards in a muggle house, that they were to mark it for further investigation, and go on.

Christine didn't want to tangle in Dumbledore's wards yet.

She also had a copy of the Potter will stating that Harry should go to Sirius and her if there was ever any problems with James and Lily being hurt, incapacitated, or the worst case scenario. All of Lily's careful planning was tossed to the rubbish bin.

The goblins were willing to help. For a fee. She didn't have that kind of gold, though. Sirius might, they hadn't talked about money much. They didn't need to. She had a good career, as did he. Or so they thought.

Christine watched the grey drizzle and the sights pass by unseen. She was nearing home, her thoughts going round and round. How could she free Sirius? Where was baby Harry? She was too tired to apparate home safely, and had changed into mundane clothes, slipping off her outer robes in the Leaky Cauldron.

She stepped off the bus to finish the short walk home. She didn't notice the tall, dark haired man following her. She never felt his wand on her back either, as he whispered the spell that left her in blackness.


When sight came to her, she felt that she had been unconscious a long time. She was lying dressed on a bed, wearing the same clothes at least on her feet and legs. Her upper body now sported the robe that she had put in her healer's bag. She had not had much money with her, but had just gotten out fifty galleons to buy some more supplies to make more Harry-finders. One of the elves had tracked down a bit of the boy's blood from some recent injury deep in the fibers of the carpet of his room. It would have survived a spot clean from a wand, and she had been grateful that it was Lily who had cleaned it not an elf.

Her hands were tied together with magical inhibiting cord, but she was not gagged. She tried to sit up, but it made her feel dizzy and sick. She thought she might have been drugged or potioned. Her heart thumped in her chest. She had been nearly home. Were her parents, her younger sister still alive?

Her sister, for whatever reason, didn't have enough magic to go to school. Trixie had so wanted to go to Hogwarts. For a time, Christine thought about dropping out, with the cost and all. But she had been given a partial scholarship. She had won a full-ride scholarship to a nice school, and Deputy Headmistress McGonagall was somehow been able to get it converted to pay for most of her magical schooling. The new clothes and books though were expensive. Was her family now dead because she wanted to pursue magic?

If they were, magic would pursue justice. Being non-magical or a squib, Trixie would be protected for as long as she lived at home. Her parents would be protected as well. But the wards for the house, the ward stones pendants that her family were supposed to wear? Did the ministry ever get around to making sure that her family had them?

As a muggleborn, she was last in line for everything.

Christine laid back down, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her other senses. She was in a building of some kind. She could hear the lowing of animals nearby, and smelled their by-products, their earthy warmth pervaded the place. She opened her eyes to view the room. It was a wooden and stone lodge of some type. The furniture, linens and all were rough, as though hand-made. The duvet was thick, full of down, and very warm. Magic warming charms on it perhaps.

There were two men arguing in rough voices outside. She patted her pockets, looked for her bag, but her wand, even if she could use it tied up was gone. She would not panic. She had lived in a time when Voldemort ruled, and he had been brought low. She knew that it had to be James and/or Lily's cleverness that saved their child. She would not panic.

The owner of the first angry voice came in, pointed at her, and demanded something of her in what sounded like a Germanic language. Great. She could speak French, Latin, Greek, a touch of Spanish and Portuguese. She had tried to learn German, she had. 'Ich liebe dich.' How hard to say I love you? I want to rip out your throat and kill you is what it sounded like to her ears. No offense to any German speakers anywhere. She just struggled with it, and gave up.

She stood, slowly. "My name is Christine. I am a healer. A matron of the order. I am under the covenant. I can do no harm, ever. Please, do not hurt me."

He stepped closer to her, his finger lightly tracing her cheek before moving to her lips.

"Mein Liebling wir gehen ein wenig Spaß zu haben." He said, before bending his tall frame to attempt a kiss. (My darling, let us go have a little fun.)

When he said whatever he said, she thought that he was trying to be nice. But she was taken.

"I'm engaged." She said, dodging deftly, and trying to point out her betrothal ring. What it lacked in flashiness was more than made up for in sentiment. She held up her bound hands to his face to show the small diamond ring. Didn't that mean the same thing here, wherever here was?

Voice number two came in along with a woman. Christine tried to put a smile to her face.

She pointed to the green robes. "Healer." She repeated that in every language she knew.

"Stan here hasn't seen a woman in months. Didn't you notice her hands were tied, you big oaf!" The woman chased both men out. "He wouldn't have hurt you, I promise. He just saw a beautiful girl, and tried to steal a kiss. Please forgive my nephew's son. His mount has kicked him in the head more than once. At least, that is what I blame it on."

The woman undid her bonds, muttering about the stupidity of males and the boy in particular.

"I am so sorry. Please. Come join me in the kitchen. I need to make food, and I would like to talk to you, ya?"

Her language was lightly accented, but she clearly spoke English. She followed her hostess to the kitchen.

"My name is Inga. I think that enough for now. You are Christine, healer. Good, good. We can use a healer here if you decide to stay after. The men are crazy. Why they don't just talk to you, I don't know. Crazy men."

The healer was handed a beverage that helped clear her head. One thing was for sure. She had slept more than she had in a while. She had been on very short sleep for the last two months.

As Inga talked, Christine got a view from the window. There was a sloping hill nearby, and lots of green grass. There was snow on the nearby upper slopes. It appeared to be mid-day wherever they were. The healer willingly helped this lady. They appeared to be making food for a small army.


Sirius Black counted the scratches. He made them on the wall with every morning bowl of porridge that was delivered to him. Fifty eight days. Fifty eight days away from his chosen family. What was happening out there? Why hadn't he been brought in for a trial yet and why was he here waiting for it? Albus had to know that it was Peter that had betrayed them. Where was he?

And Christine. They were supposed to go to the Potter's that night for Halloween. How was it that he was called in for work and yet had no alibi for betraying his best friends? He was part of the crew that was called out AFTER the attack. He should have just quit the force, then he could have been there with James, he should have been there. Poor little Harry. He must be so sad and alone. Where was he?

He had dragged his feet marrying this muggle-born girl. She was so different from Lily. She was shy at all of the wrong times, and talked way too much at others. She wasn't beautiful. She was tall and slim, and had lovely breasts that he wanted to nibble on. He spent breakfast mentally planning his assaults on the lovely twin slopes.

Why weren't they already married? He might have only a part of his inheritance, but if she had access to it, she could hire a solicitor to help. Did she even know about such people? Muggles had different ideas of things. No magic. However did they cope?

He spent the next few hours huddling living his worst memories trying to cope with the daily torture of dementors. Relief came as he changed form, but he was so afraid of getting caught he only did it once he could take no more.


Christine tried to leave the kitchen once men started trouping into the living room and dining area. Clearly, this little house wasn't normally host to so many. Or maybe it was. Some chanting and the dining room was suddenly bigger, the table and bench seating elongated to seat the dozen and a half men and women that came in. The work done with practices ease. All were wearing rather plain brown wizarding robes, nothing fancy. The clothes looked well-worn, heavy, and warm.

People came to the kitchen, filled their plates with the delicious smelling food and took them back to the dining room. More than a few of the men thanked both women for their efforts in the meal. After everyone was served, Inga had Christine fill her own plate. There was plenty of food left for the others to have seconds or even thirds, unless more people were coming. The pair sat at the kitchen table while the others talked in the dining room nearby. There were no teenagers or babies around. Then she heard a toddler crying.

She looked up as a half-dozen men came in carrying a child with a very familiar red and gold blanket.

"Harry!" The healer rushed to the upset child. The boy, hearing a familiar voice turned and somehow he was in her arms.

"Crissy! Crissy!" the boy hugged her as hard as he could. He looked everywhere. "Mummy? Mummy?"

"Oh darling, I'm sorry. Mummy's gone." How did one explain death to a toddler?

"Pa'foo'? Pa'foo?"

"He's alive, my love. Oh Harry, I have been so worried about you. Tory, Darla, Kensy, Lenny, Mario and Zeb are going to be so happy to know that you are alright. We've been out looking for you."

She looked up at the man who was looking at his arms as though trying to figure out how the baby got out of his grip.

"Thank you for this. I am one of this boy's rightful guardians. I have the paperwork somewhere that proves it. Sirius Black, his godfather, and I are to take care of him now."

Christine looked at the boy. "Are you hungry? You look hungry, thirsty, tired and very dirty. I'm sure that we can take care of all of those things here though."

Inga took her aside and asked a very personal question.

"No ma'am, I've never even slept…" Christine blushed. At nearly twenty two, she doubted this woman would believe her. Of course she hadn't nursed a baby before, or even had one yet. Not that she didn't know the basics. Every healer did.

"I know the spell to make it so I can feed him. He does look like he needs it. You don't have any formula, bottles?"

She shook her head sadly. Worried about starting a rant about stupid men again, Christine asked for her wand or use of one.

"I know the spell, do you trust me?" Inga asked.

Christine nodded. She trusted the woman more than herself to be honest. At least for casting this spell. While she waited for it to work, she fed the hungry toddler soft cooked vegetables and small bits of soft beef that she tore into tiny, tiny pieces. He seemed to focus on the first than the second, and looked around for a drink.

Sitting down, and with help from an expert, she was able to feed the boy naturally. He was so hungry!

"Look at him. Look at how he is squirming. He's wearing banishers I'm sure, but probably long overdue for a change." Inga clucked, and went to the home's bathing room to prepare for their newest guest.

"Where have you been little one? What have they done to you Harry?" She asked not meaning to ask the boy. He stopped drinking and got a very serious look on his face. He hit his chest.

"Freak" He then touched her breast. "Chrissy."

"Chrissy". The healer touched her heart. "Harry" touching his. "You are my Harry, my love, my wonderful boy. It is going to take time for us to become a family, but I have dreamt of being with you every night for the last two months. You are Harry." She said to him slowly and sweetly.

He smiled at her like she was playing a prank and went to the serious business of eating. He drained her dry on both sides. She wondered if the spell had gone wrong, but she felt milk leaving her, and entering the child. Liquid love, it felt like. She already loved him, just from the times that she had been with him.

He was very sleepy now, but without a wand, she had to clean him up the muggle way. Fortunately for her, she knew how. What she didn't know how to do was make the diapering pants that he wore that banished the messes. Fortunately for them both, Inga seemed very practiced and had a spare pair of small pants ready for him as he was exiting his bath. Inga had salve for them both, and it soothed Harry's rash. Poor baby.

Christine laid him down on her own bed, and Inga put wards up that would prevent him from falling and let them know when he was awake.

"How many children do you have?" Christine asked her when they were back. She rubbed her sore nipples, she wasn't used to this at all.

"I have five, but none live at home any more. They're all grown up. My Liesel is expecting her first anytime, and I will have babies in my life again soon."

Christine was putting a salve on her breasts when a huge man walked into the kitchen.

"You, come with me, we talk now." He commanded, and pointed at the dining room. It appeared some had eaten and left, others wandered in and out. There was still food, but the troops had definitely put a dent in the supplies.

Christine, embarrassed at her comprising position, put down the salve, brushed off her hands, and walked with him into the dining room. She looked at Inga who was frowning, followed them.

"She obviously cares about boy. Do any disagree? He flew from my hands to her, me! I had a good hold of him! That boy is strong wizard already. We know that he defeated dark one, for how long, nobody knows. But he needs family, needs mother. Anyone object to this healer being it?" The tall man demanded of the group.

He looked around the room. They all looked at her, then up at their leader. Whoever he was.

"Next, I will not leave auror in prison. I go to ICW…"

This was one of those times that Christine probably should have stayed quiet, but had to speak. She couldn't stop herself. Hans started to scowl the longer she talked.

"I have the documents showing that Peter Pettigrew was the Potter's secret keeper and that Sirius could not have betrayed them. He was also called away as we were getting ready for a party. He received a floo call calling him into work to go after Peter Pettigrew! I am a healer. I can take Veritaserum and testify, or give you a memory or both. I have a certified copy of the Potter's wills…"

"Hush now, child. Hans is a powerful man. You insult him when you interrupt him." Inga stood. "Sit with me. Please forgive her, she has been working hard to free her betrothed. She is frantic for this."

Blushing, the girl sat, trying to use her long brown hair to hide from everyone. Hans continued his scowl at her, but nodded at the woman that had fed his men.

"I know of the Covenant of the Oath, and you are safe here. As a woman, you would be safe here from these men even without that. We are honorable men. We have our own women." Inga said something to him under her breath that he laughed at. It was in his own tongue. "We know you looking for Potter boy. We see you many times the last two months. You smart, doing good search. Your elves, smart, hard-working. We find house with different wards. We thought they would be stronger."

He pulled a long draught of whatever amber liquid he was drinking.

"That witch with no magic had him locked in a storage closet, she was furious that she had been saddled with the boy. She gave me his blanket, his bag, and the letter that I hold here. I am still furious from when I read it. I was able to walk out of the house with the boy with no problems at all, and little Harry not know me."

"He would rather go with me, a stranger, than stay with his flesh and blood. She did say that we could have the money, and that it was nice to get the thousand pounds a month. But she would pay a thousand pounds a month to get away from freaks. That is what she called me. Us. Him."

He shook his head and looked for answers in his boots. They didn't respond.

"I don't know this money, but it doesn't seem like much."

This time he was looking at Christine. "Two hundred galleons roughly. But that isn't right. Unless some last minute changes were made, he should be getting a thousand galleons a month. As a baby, that is more than enough, but an older child needs tutors, brooms, clothes, travel, all of the proper things for a little lord."

She had been going to say more, but stopped at his scowl. He then smiled at her when she did.

"Perhaps theft along with kidnapping can be added to charge against enemy of us all. We are going to Geneva day after tomorrow. Just as soon as I get trial set." His thick accent was hard to understand at times, but not now.

Christine looked up at him with hope in her eyes. "My Sirius?"

She bit her tongue to stop asking anything more. His laugh was her only answer, but took it to mean yes.


Christine had the nightmare again. It was Greater Whinging, halfway through November at night, so of course the weather was dreadful. Worried that any magic would set of wards and alarms, the healer had been rightfully afraid of using unnecessary magic. She held the small globe in her hand, hoping for the slightest gleam that would mean that she was getting closer. Wet, cold, tired and hungry, she pressed on and on, driven by her oath, driven by magic to find the child. Unable to rest completely once home, she dreamt again and again, a crying child hoping that Sirius would come, that she herself might come.

The healer woke in the middle of the night. She was safe, warm, fed. Baby Harry was asleep in the little cot bumped up next to her. He was holding onto her finger in the night.

The only good dreams she had had in two months were the ones were she mentally planned for what she needed for a baby, including the nursing charm just in case. Most mothers she knew nursed their children until they were two or so. Old by some standards, but the prevailing thoughts were that babies absorbed magical strength along with their milk, not that the mother's weren't renewed. But it made babies stronger and happier.

She still didn't know why she was here. She still didn't have her wand back. But she felt safe, and the group clearly had the power to obliviate her and return her home if they didn't want to face the backlash of the Oath. If they wanted her dead, she would have been, with only their deaths to follow. No, she was safe. And so was little Harry. Or so she chose to believe.

Stroking his hand gently, she fell back to sleep.


It was early morning, and Christine woke suddenly. She couldn't figure out why, but then Harry woke. It was clear that he had been punished for crying, and he was trying to stay quiet.

"Good morning, Harry. It's Chrissy. I love you, sweet boy." She picked him up and place him next to her on her bed. He was clearly hungry, and she felt renewed and ready to try feeding him again. After he ate, she got him to burp.

The look of love that he gave her when she brought him down off her shoulder took her breath away. No one had told her, no one had warned her that she was going to lose her heart to this little man.

Hearing noise in the kitchen, she put Harry down back in his cot so she could do her own morning rituals. She then headed into the house with her charge.

"Good morning, Inga. How can I help?" Christine smiled at the woman at the stove.

"Just you and I and the baby this morning. The men are on their own for breakfast."

"Who are they? Or are you allowed to say?" Christine asked, more confident about talking knowing that it was just them.

As the older woman warmed milk, getting ready to make oatmeal it appeared, she looked very pensieve.

"Several hundred years ago, there was a group of men that went on Crusades with their king. Once they got to the Holy Land, what they saw were people, living in a desert area, who had lived there for many generations. They had no desire to kill anyone. They had no desire to do evil in the name of good. So despite being on the King's errand, and despite the pressure on them, they deserted. Many of their families were thrown from their castles back home, their treasures stolen as punishment for the men's desertion.

"It took time, but the families were reunited with their men. They became nomadic for a time, renegades, mercenaries. But the type of mercenary that would only fight for good causes. And if they were lied to about circumstances, would become supporters of the other side very quickly. People learned to be honest with them, as they were honest men."

Inga stirred and then poured the now fresh made food into the waiting bowls.

"But then, just a few decades ago, the leader of this group was lied to in a very, very large way. He was promised that what they were working for would be for the greater good of wizardkind for all time. And for the first time since the knights rode out long before, the wizards and witches supported an evil cause."

Inga shed a few tears as she got out butter, honey and other toppings for the cereal. She had poured just a little in Harry's bowl, and cast a quick spell on it to cool it. She handed Christine a spoon, as it was clear that Harry had not been feeding himself for some time, and needed help.

"To say it was a disaster would be an understatement. Towards the end of the war, finally, a small group of the people, some of the youngest knights of the order, deserted. They said that they could not and would not support any more evil. My husband was one of those men. I know, I don't look seventy five, thank you dear. But we came here. Some of the order wanted to settle down, establish real homes. Switzerland was supposed to be neutral territory.

"And the men and women continued in their work. Stopping terrorists here, starting a war there. For a good cause, I assure you. We are a much smaller group that what we once were, but we are growing." Inga stopped to spoon a bite to eat as she contemplated what to say next.

"Now we come to trust. I understand from conversations last night that you do not trust Dumbledore?" Her eyes nearly burned the healer with their intensity.

"Lily and I are both muggle-born witches that did not grow up with the Church of Albus in our lives. Both my love and Lily's seemed to think that the wizard could do no wrong. Is he powerful? Yes, one can feel it. But I know of myself that he lies, and he hurts the innocent. And he does not act where he could to right wrongs."

Christine looked at the woman. May Lily forgive her the breach. "My friend is dead. Where is the pack that she prepared? It had fifty thousand galleons. It had the Potter invisibility cloak. It had portkey's to several places around the world so that they could pop from one place to another, and hide if someone were tracking them."

She looked at Harry. "I saw this kit three days before my friend was killed. It was hidden, but I overheard James telling someone about it on the floo. How could the man do that? He was trying to reassure someone. You don't make a secret plan and then talk about it. It had to be Peter he talked to. Sirius was in the loo, I was in the kitchen with Lily and Harry."

"You didn't like James, did you?" The woman looked at her again.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't know him well in school. After Sirius and I started dating, Lily and I gossiped like old friends. She had no one to complain to about James' faults. I no doubt heard more bad than good, but I will say this. He loved his son very much, and was a great dad to him. If they had lived in a different time, I'm sure that James and Lily could have had enough children for a quidditch team and been a happy family. He didn't seem to care about how his fighting affected Lily. Once Harry was born, I could tell she wanted to back off from missions, but she wouldn't let him go out alone. Unprotected. She was a fearsome warrior."

Christine shuddered. "I'm sorry James and Lily, if you are listening in. I do love you both. And I will do my best to take care of Harry."

She glowed a light blue nimbus for a moment, but only Inga and Harry saw it.

"Chrissy witch!" Harry said, enjoying the bits of bread that Inga gave him, pointing with his fist.

"What am I to you, my darling boy? I can't call myself your mum, and clearly not an aunt either. I'm sure that Sirius will come up with something. Whether or not it's a title I want for the next hundred years is a different question."

"I'm sorry if I made you feel that you spoke ill of our beloved dead. I did not know James, but he and Sirius were hit-wizards. Mages of their caliber that put their lives on the line for good and not for gold get noticed by our little group."

"Speaking of which, you gave me the history, but not the name." Christine looked at her.

Inga sighed. "We are known as the Knights of Walpurgis."

Christine clutched her heart, looked at Harry, and fainted to the floor.

A/N – Thanks for reading.