back to school by lazyweekendmornings

Index

Chapter 1: i.
Chapter 2: ii.
Chapter 3: iii.
Chapter 4: iv.
Chapter 5: v.
Chapter 6: vi.
Chapter 7: vii.
Chapter 8: viii.
Chapter 9: ix
Chapter 10: x.
Chapter 11: xi.
Chapter 12: xii.
Chapter 13: xiii
Chapter 14: xiv
Chapter 15: xv.
Chapter 16: xvi
Chapter 17: xvii
Chapter 18: xviii.
Chapter 19: xix
Chapter 20: xx
Chapter 21: xxi
Chapter 22: xxii
Chapter 23: epilogue

Chapter 1: i.

Author's Notes: this fic is compliant with al seven books, and based after the epilogue, but is NOT compliant with cursed child. enjoy!

Twenty years ago, or even ten years ago, the sight of McGonagall standing at his doorstep would not be something that Harry’d be used to. Today, though, when he opens the door and sees her, wearing a thick travelling cloak despite the late summer heat of August, he says, “Hi, Professor. Do you want to come in?”

McGonagall looks behind her before she nods and steps in through the door, closing it firmly behind her.

“Cup of tea?” Harry offers.

“Yes, please. I would quite like that,” McGonagall says, and follows Harry into the kitchen once she’s taken off her cloak and hung it up.

Just as Harry and McGonagall reach the kitchen, no less than seven children come running downstairs, their footsteps thundering in their haste. Harry counts all three of his own, and Freddie, and Scorpius, and Lorcan and Lysander. The usual suspects, then, apart from Rosie and Hugo, who are off in France with Ron and Hermione and Hermione’s parents.

“Oh. Hi, Dad. Hi, Professor McGonagall,” Jamie, who’s at the head of the troupe, says. “Are you here to tell us that you’ve cancelled the summer essays and we don’t need to bother doing them?”

“No such luck today, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall says, but Harry notes the amused quirk at the corner of her lips.

“Oh, well. Worth a shot, don’t you think?” Jamie, always the philosopher, reasons.

“Never hurts, certainly,” McGonagall says.

Jamie turns to look at Harry. “Dad, we’re going to go play a game of Quidditch outside. Is that alright?”

“Of course, yeah,” Harry said. “Don’t go past the—”

“Past the garden, yes. We know, Dad,” Lily says, and she and Jamie exchange an eyeroll before they lead the others into the garden.

“You seem to have gained more children since I last spoke with you,” McGonagall says dryly, and takes a seat at the table. She’s been here often enough that it’s the same chair she always sits at.

“Yes, I don’t know where they keep popping up from,” Harry says dryly. He points his wand at the kettle and sits down opposite her.  

“Harry,” Ginny calls out, coming down the stairs, “have you seen my—oh, hi, Professor. I didn’t know you were stopping by today. Is everything alright?”

McGonagall hesitates for a second. Which is never a good sign. Harry and Ginny exchange a look; the smile on Ginny’s face fades slightly.

“What is it? What happened?” she asks, sitting down next to Harry. She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze: the only “Are you somehow here to expel all three of our children?”

“Of course not,” McGonagall says. “And Lily hasn’t even begun to attend Hogwarts yet. I am here to speak to you,” she tells Harry. “But this matter concerns the both of you, of course.”

Harry waves his wand. Three cups of tea make their way over to the table, and McGonagall takes a sip of hers before she continues speaking.

“I am here to offer you a job,” McGonagall says.

Harry blinks. Blinks again. And then turns to look at Ginny. “But… Professor, I have a job.” He’s been the Head of the Auror Office for years, and he knows for a fact that McGonagall knows, because he meets her every year to discuss the security arrangements at Hogwarts.

“I am aware of that, Potter,” McGonagall says, and Harry suddenly feels like he’s behind her desk in her office, being told off for something. “However…” she takes a deep breath, and her hands shake a little as she sips her tea. “There was a Dementor attack in Hogsmeade this morning.”

Harry sits up straighter. “What?” he says.

“When?” Ginny demands.

“In the early hours of the morning. At Madam Rosmerta’s flat,” McGonagall says.

Harry frowns. It’s his day off work, but he’s still surprised that he didn’t hear about this. “Did it get reported?” he asks.

McGonagall shakes her head. “Madam Rosmerta is skilled with the Patronus Charm. She chased it off, and wrote to me to inform me what had happened. She doesn’t seem worried about it. But… the last time Dementors were loose…”

“It wasn’t a good thing,” Harry says, and sighs. It’d been when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. “We haven’t had any Azkaban breakouts, though.”

“I am aware of that, yes,” McGonagall says. “And Dementors are not in the employ of the Ministry anymore, correct?”

“I—yeah, we got rid of them ages ago,” Harry says, his mind racing. “So… Professor, you think…”

“I think that since the Dementors don’t report to the Ministry, it is possible that they might be reporting to someone else,” McGonagall says. “Of course, I may be paranoid. However, if a Dementor could get to Hogsmeade…”

“Then they could get to Hogsmeade,” Ginny whispers.

“Precisely,” McGonagall says. “And after last time, I am not ready to let the students be ill-prepared for any threat, Dementors or… otherwise. And the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is open, as it turns out. And I remember that you, in your time, certainly taught the students how to defend themselves well.”

Next to him, Harry feels Ginny lift her arm. He doesn’t have to look at her to know her hand’s gone to the necklace she wears every day, the modified DA Galleon on a chain. “He did,” she agrees.

“I was a student then, too, Professor,” Harry points out.

“Yes. A student who faced challenges that few others have had to. And, if I remember correctly, you had most of Dumbledore’s Army produce working, effective Patronuses within a school year. And that was what you could do in secret meetings every few weeks. Imagine what you could do as a teacher, for a year,” McGonagall says patiently.

Harry’s tea has gone tepid, but he still takes a sip, just so he’ll have something to do. “We can increase the security at Hogwarts. More Aurors, or…”

“Or you can come back for a year and teach the students – including your children – how to defend themselves,” McGonagall says. “It’s not just the Dementor. There have been… whispers. At school.”

“What sort of whispers?” Ginny asks.

McGonagall hesitates. “I fear… that the realities of the war are fading. That wizards are finding it easier to slip into their old prejudices and… and act on them, despite our best efforts.” She stands up then and gives them a tired smile. “I ask that you consider it. It’s just for a year, after all. And, of course, should you wish to join your husband, the position of Quidditch Coach would be all yours,” she adds to Ginny.

“What happened to Hooch?” Ginny asks.

“Her wife and her are taking the year off. A year-round trip along the world. An extended honeymoon, I believe,” McGonagall says.

“Oh. Good for them,” Ginny says.

“Indeed, but it leaves our students in desperate need of Quidditch coaching,” McGonagall says. “If you both could let me know by the end of the week, I would appreciate it.”

*

“We can’t do this,” Ginny says later. They’re sitting on the sofa, cups of tea in hand. It’s late, late enough that the kids are in bed. Or are meant to be in bed, anyway, but Harry can’t bring himself to worry about that right now.

“No,” he says.

“We’ve got jobs,” Ginny says. “I’m the Quidditch Correspondent for the Prophet. You’re Head Auror. There’s talk that you’ll be made Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Harry pauses. “What talk?”

“I overhead the Minister talking about it,” Ginny says innocently.

Harry snorts, raising his eyebrow at her. “By which you mean…”

“I mean that Hermione mentioned it and then made me promise I wouldn’t say anything to anyone, because she isn’t meant to tell anyone in her capacity as Minister yet,” Ginny says.

“Of course,” Harry says with a grin. He wraps his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, setting his cup down. “Gin… Dementor attack. In Hogsmeade.”

“I know,” Ginny says. “The kids don’t know Patronuses yet, do they?”

“Jamie’s going to be a Defence Owl student this year. He’ll probably learn it,” Harry says. “I mean… it’s on the curriculum. Or it should be.”

“It would be,” Ginny says, quietly, “if you were teaching.”

“But I’m not,” Harry says.

“No,” Ginny says. “You’re not. But if you were…”

“If I was, then Jamie would kill me. Or Al. Or Lily. Imagine how embarrassing it’d be for them, to have their dad teach them,” Harry says.

Ginny looks up at him, an evil smile playing on her lips. “Mm. The only thing more embarrassing than that would be both their parents at school.”

Harry laughs. He can imagine all of their faces. Not to mention Freddie, and Rose and Hugo, and Lorcan and Lysander, and Scorpius.  “Am I an awful parent if I say that that sounds like it’d be fun to watch?”

“If so, then I’m just as bad as you are,” Ginny says.

“I’d say you’re worse,” Harry says, and then squeezes Ginny’s shoulders.

“How dare you,” Ginny says, bringing a hand up to muffle a yawn. “So. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits. “On the one hand… we have jobs. Jobs that we like. And our kids would hate it. But on the other hand…”

“On the other hand, there was a Dementor at Hogsmeade,” Ginny says quietly. “And our kids might be in danger.”

“Not just our kids. Everyone at Hogwarts,” Harry says. “And it doesn’t have to be… I mean, it’s just a year. I could take a year off from the Ministry. And go back after a year.”

“I could be the Quidditch Correspondent from anywhere, really,” Ginny says and sighs. “And I might finally finish that book I’m writing.”

“The book I’m not allowed to ask you about, you mean?” Harry says.

“Exactly.”

“It’s a memoir about me, isn’t it?” It’s been over twenty years of being with Ginny, almost twenty years of being married to her, and he still can’t resist teasing her. It’s second nature, and it’s worth it every time to get to see the spark of laughter in her eyes.

“Oh, yes. How did you know? I’ve got a letter ready to go addressed to Rita Skeeter’s publisher,” Ginny says without missing a beat.

Harry laughs, and then they both silent for long enough that Harry would think Ginny’s asleep if he didn’t know her as well as he does.

“We can’t protect them from everything,” Harry finally says, after a pause. “Our kids. The students at Hogwarts. We can’t protect everyone, Gin.” His words ring false in his own mouth. There’s a reason he went after Voldemort, and it wasn’t the prophecy. It’s the same reason he refused to step down after the war, why he joined the Aurors without thinking twice about it. Why, despite the late nights and the battles and the stress and the dangers, he’s never thought twice about his career choice. Hermione, a long time ago, called it a ‘saving people thing’. It isn’t like that, though. Not really. It’s just… he needs to know he’s doing everything he can to create a safer world. It’s instinctive by this point. And it’s not about protecting his children; or, at the very least, not only about that. But he does have to admit that if they’re in danger in Hogwarts, and he doesn’t do what he can to help them, to protect them, it doesn’t sit right with him.

Ginny looks up at him, right into his eyes. Her eyes are brown and piercing, and he finds it hard to look away from her. He always does. “Can’t we try, at the very least?” she says.

He knows she feels the same way as him. She may not have become an Auror, may have chosen Quidditch and writing instead, but she’s never run away, never backed away from danger. Not once. He thinks she might be one of the bravest people he knows, and he’s thought that since he was twelve, since the Chamber and everything that happened there. She’s only proven him right every day since then.

He takes her hand, starts to play with her fingers. “One year,” he says.

“One year,” she agrees. “Merlin. How on earth are we going to bring this up to the kids?”

*

Back to index

Chapter 2: ii.

Author's Notes: this is really an extension of chapter 1- the REAL action will begin next chapter :) as always, please let me know what you think! comments made my day

They bring it up the very next day, at dinner. Dinner’s a chaotic event, the way it always ends up being at the Potter household. It’s just Harry and Ginny and their kids. Well, them and Scorpius, who’s been spending every summer with them since Al first went to school, and Teddy, who’s part of the family anyway. Harry doesn’t know when he stopped thinking of Teddy as his godson and started thinking of him as his kid, but when Teddy was at Hogwarts and McGonagall told him you’d never believe what your child has done now, it never felt wrong.

“How’s the Ministry going, Teddy?” Scorpius asks Teddy cheerfully, helping himself to some more food.

“Terribly, if you could believe it,” Teddy says. He looks completely exhausted, and Harry makes a note to speak to check up on him later, when it’s just the two of them.

“I can believe it. You don’t look very well,” Scorpius says.

“No, mate, that’s just his face,” Jamie says.

Teddy flips Jamie off and then concentrates, his brow furrowing up with the force of it. After a few seconds, his hair goes bright purple. “And now?”

“Much better,” Scorpius says. “I like the blue better, though.”

“Thanks, Scorp,” Teddy says, and then sighs. “The entire Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is full of bigots. No offence,” he adds to Harry.

“None taken. It’s not my department,” Harry says mildly. “Besides, I agree with you. The things they say about werewolves…”

“It’s awful!” Teddy says. “That’s what I’ve been trying to work on. And every time I point out how archaic and terrible their werewolf laws are, they say I’m letting my personal biases get in the way. My personal biases. I hate them all.”

“They really shouldn’t be doing that, Teddy,” Harry says, frowning. “Want me to have a word?”

“Nah,” Teddy says. “Don’t think it’ll make my case much stronger if I have to get the Chosen One to argue with them for me.”

“They sound terrible, though,” Jamie says, sounding more serious now. “Why do you put up with it?”

“They’re not all bad,” Teddy says reluctantly. “Besides, someone’s got to change everything, right? And werewolf legislation… s’important. I want to make things better.”

“What I don’t understand,” Albus puts in, “is why werewolves are even counted as Magical Creatures. Surely they’re just wizards with… with illnesses?”

“Exactly!” Teddy says, pointing his fork at Albus.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just get them all access to Wolfsbane Potion?” Al says. “Get their illness under control so they can lead a normal life? And then surely the Ministry can focus on creatures who actually need regulation. Like dragons.”

“That’s what I think,” Teddy says. “Honestly, you’re smarter than the entire Ministry, Al.”

Al beams, and then catches Scorpius’s eye and looks at his lap, the barest hint of flush on his cheeks.

“Course he is,” Jamie agrees, and then tells Albus, in an aside, “Swot.”

Albus flicks some potatoes off his fork towards Jamie.

“Al, Jamie, no food fights,” Ginny says without turning to look at them, just as Jamie’s preparing to throw a retaliatory forkful of food towards Al.

“How does she always know what’s going on?” Lily wonders.

“Oh, she’s always been like that,” Teddy tells Lily. “Ginny, remember when I was four–”

“And you stole my broom to practice? Of course I do,” Ginny says.

“She caught you in the garden before you even finished taking it out of the shed, didn’t she?” Harry says, grinning.

“Because it’s impossible to hide anything from Ginny,” Teddy says.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud of you as I was that day,” Ginny says with a little smile. “Teaching yourself to fly and being sneaky. I’ve taught you well, clearly.”

“Very well,” Harry says, thinking about the number of places he’s caught Teddy and Victoire over the years. It’s why both him and Andromeda are grateful that they’ve finally got their own flat, he knows. No more having to worry about whatever Teddy’s up to. They still worry, of course, but Harry doesn’t think that’ll ever stop. Part of the job, as Molly likes to say.

“Ted’s right, though, Mum. With you as our mum and the Head bloody Auror as our dad, it’s impossible to hide anything at all,” Jamie grumbles.

Harry looks up, meets Ginny’s gaze, and then says, “Well, you kids might have to get a bit more used to it.”

“Why’s that?” Lily asks immediately.

“Because Harry’s been offered a job. As the Defence teacher at Hogwarts for the year. Oh, and I’ve been offered one, too. Flying Instructor,” Ginny says breezily. “So you’ll have to get used to us being around you lot a lot more than usual, potentially. Should we have some dessert?”

There’s a second, and then all hell breaks loose.

“Seriously?!” Jamie says.

“That’d be so cool, Mr. and Mrs. Potter!” Scorpius says.

“Is this a prank?” Al says, eyes wide.

“So you’d have to be on the train with me in September?” Lily asks.

“So you’re leaving the Ministry?” Teddy demands at the same time.

“Seriously?” Jamie repeats.

Harry meets Ginny’s eyes amidst the cacophony of noise. “About the best we could hope for, I think,” he mutters.

*

They discuss it properly over dessert, once the noise has subsided as much as it can.

“You know, if you did this, there’d have to be rules, Dad,” Jamie says, stabbing his treacle tart with his fork with far more force than necessary.

“Oh?” Harry says, amused.

“And when have you ever listened to any rules in your life, James Sirius Potter?” Ginny says.

“That’s different,” Jamie says. “These would be important, necessary rules.”

“As opposed to our rules, of course, which are completely unimportant and ridiculous,” Ginny mutters.

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand,” Jamie says.

“Go on, then,” Teddy says, sounding more amused than he has all day. “What sort of rules, Jamie?”

“You can’t give us special treatment for one, Dad,” Jamie says. “Or you, Mum.”

“You can’t single us out in class, either,” Al puts in. “Or put us in detention.”

“I would mind being singled out. I think it’d be cool,” Scorpius says. “Is there more tart, Mr. Potter? It’s delicious.”

Harry waves his wand, sending another slice of tart over to Scorpius’s plate. “I’m not going to be singling anyone out. Or giving any of you special treatment.”

“Besides,” Ginny says, “if we were giving special treatment to our relatives and friends, the entire school would get special treatment, probably, with the amount of Weasleys out there,” she snorts. “Not to mention Luna’s kids, and Lee Jordan’s… anyway, no special treatment.”

“You can’t come on the train with us,” Lily puts in.

Harry turns to look at Ginny, who nods at him. “We, er. We do have to come on the train, actually,” he says. It’s more than twenty years ago, but he remembers what happened with the Dementors on the train in his third year. He remembers it as clearly as if it happened yesterday. There’s a reason that, even after all these years, his Boggart is a Dementor. He doesn’t think that’ll ever change. And if there was a Dementor at Hogsmeade, then there’s a chance — a tiny, infinitesimal chance — that one might get onto the train. And he’s not taking that kind of risk.

 “Fine,” Jamie says, “but you can’t share our compartment. And you can’t talk to Leah.”

“Would that be Leah Wood?” Ginny asks innocently. “Oliver’s daughter? Who happened to be made Prefect this year, and who you happen to have been writing to all summer?”

Jamie blushes.

“I still can’t believe you weren’t made Prefect,” Lily tells Jamie loyally.

“I can,” Harry says dryly, and sits back in his chair. “Alright. No special treatment. We’ll leave you alone on the train. But I’m afraid we will have to talk to Leah, if we’re her professors.”

“We won’t embarrass you in front of her, though,” Ginny says.

“I don’t know, mate. You should rethink your strategy. If you get embarrassed in front of her, at least that means she’s noticing you,” Teddy says.

“Did that work with Victoire?” Al says.

It’s Teddy’s turn to blush a little.

“We’re getting off topic here,” Lily says, getting them all back on focus in the way only little Lily’s ever been able to. Since the day she’s been born, she’s been able to command all of their attention. “Dad. Mum. Why are you coming to Hogwarts?”

“To, er. Teach?” Harry says.

“And you’re sure about it?” Lily says. “No other reason?”

“Yes?” Harry says. “I mean, no? Yes, I’m sure, no, there’s no other reason. Blimey, Lils, I should take you into the Auror interrogation room with me sometime. You’d crack all our suspects.”

Lily beams.

“Yes, speaking of which. Why would you leave the Ministry?” Teddy asks, frowning.

“I’m not–Teddy, I’m not leaving the Ministry. I’d just take a year off, get someone else to run the Auror department while I’m gone. And then I’d come back,” Harry says.

“So you’d be… you’d be teaching me. In my fifth year. In my OWL year,” Jamie says slowly, and considers. “On a completely unrelated note, Dad, what did you get in Defence? In your Defence OWL?”

“He got an Outstanding,” Ginny answers for him. “But, you know, he also killed the Dark Lord, which is more of a credential, really.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Harry says. “Technically–”

“–he killed himself,” Teddy, Jamie, Al, and Lily say in unison, while Scorpius watches them, bemused.

“He says that a lot,” Al tells Scorpius.

“A lot,” Lily agrees.

“It’d probably be the title of his memoir,” Jamie says. “Technically: Voldemort Killed Himself. You get used to it.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry says, shaking his head. “If any of you felt really uncomfortable with us coming to teach, then you can tell us.”

“Course you can. In fact, we won’t do it unless it’s okay with you,” Ginny says. “All of you,” she adds, looking at Teddy.

There’s silence for a moment.

“I suppose… it’s fine,” Jamie says. “I mean… you have gotten through a lot of Dark stuff, Dad. And you did play for the Harpies, Mum. So you’re both, you know. Qualified to teach. And you’re both, you know, nice. Not awful, the way some parents are. So it could be worse.” He slumps back in his chair, the admission seemingly having taken up all of his energy. Harry does feel oddly touched, though.

“It’s fine for me, too,” Lily says. “I mean… If anyone bothers me, I can just ask you take points off their Houses, right?”

“I mean, you can ask, sure,” Ginny says.

“Alright, then. It’s fine with me,” Lily says.

“We probably won’t take points away just because someone annoys you, though, Lils,” Ginny says.

“Yes,” Lily says, as though it’s obvious, “but they don’t have to know that, do they?”

“I think it’d be good for you to get out of the Ministry for a bit,” Teddy says after a moment’s thought. “But you’ll come back, right?”

“Right,” Harry says, leaning over to ruffle Teddy’s violet hair.

“Then… fine,” Teddy says.

“I mean, I’m fine with it, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” Scorpius says easily. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll teach us in Defence! And I’m hoping to make Chaser of the Ravenclaw team this year, so it’s actually really good timing for me.’

Harry smiles at that, and then looks at Albus. Albus’s eyes, precisely the same shade of green as Harry’s, are deep in thought, which is a familiar expression on him.

“Al?” he asks, tentative. He’s never quite been able to tell what Albus is thinking, the way he can with his other children. Luckily for him, Al’s never been shy about airing his thoughts.

“It’s fine with me, too,” Al finally says.

Harry relaxes in his chair, and then turns to look at Ginny, who grins at him.

“It’s settled, then,” she says. “We’re going back to Hogwarts.”

Back to index

Chapter 3: iii.

Author's Notes: i know not much actually Happens in this chapter, but there are so many characters that are introduced here (including all the kids) that i wanted to give it a little room to breathe before i jumped right into more Plot! as always, please let me know what you think - reviews really do help me write faster! what are your guesses for how the new students - lily, hugo, lorcan, lysander, and roxanne - are Sorted? let me know!!

The first of September seems to come all at once. Before Harry knows it, they’re in the car, driving to Kings Cross. It’s a tight squeeze in the car, even with its expanded seats: Harry and Ginny, along with their children and Scorpius, are accompanied by Teddy. Teddy’s there ostensibly to drive the car back, but Harry suspects two things: one, that Victoire is about to take an early lunch break from work, and two, that he won’t see his car back until Christmas, if ever, if the gleeful look on Teddy’s face as he drives is any indication.

“Did you ever get your Muggle driving licence?” he asks Teddy.

“Sure,” Teddy says.

“Doesn’t inspire too much confidence,” Ginny remarks from where she’s curled up next to Harry in the front with her head resting on his shoulder. Car rides always make her nauseous, which Harry finds a little amusing, given how many hours she’s spent flying on brooms that go so much faster.

“Don’t you trust me?” Teddy asks Ginny teasingly.

“I think your driving is great, Teddy,” Scorpius puts in from the backseat, where he’s sandwiched in between Lily and Albus. “It’s honestly so cool to get to be in a Muggle car like this.”

“You should meet my grandad, if you love Muggle things,” Albus says.

“I’d love to!” Scorpius says. “I bet he’s great. Everyone in your family is.”

Harry can’t resist saying, “Scorp, when you go home, I want you to tell your father that. In those exact words, okay?”

“Okay,” Scorpius says.

Ginny looks up at Harry, and they exchange a grin.

“Are we there yet?” Lily asks, for what feels like the fiftieth time.

“Not yet, Lils,” Teddy says cheerfully. “It takes a while. It’s your parents’ fault, I’ve been telling them for years to move closer to London.”

“There’s no space to fly if we lived in London,” Harry says.

“Grimmauld Place’s got a garden,” Teddy says.

“That garden’s about the size of a shoebox,” Harry says, falling into the old argument easily. “Besides, that house is yours, Ted.”

“I like our house,” Lily says, “I just wish it was closer to Kings Cross. Can’t you drive faster, Teddy?”

Teddy’s eyes light up at that. “Course I can,” he says, reaching out to press a button that Arthur added when he was modifying the car.

“No,” Harry and Ginny say in unison.

“You’re gonna have to let me push the button one day, you know,” Teddy grumbles.

“You should ask Uncle George. He lets you push all the buttons on his car,” Albus says. Harry glances at him in the rear-view mirror, raising an eyebrow. “Not,” Albus adds hastily, “that I’ve done that. I haven’t, of course. And Jamie and I definitely didn’t go there and try flying his car.”

“Nice save, Al,” Jamie grumbles. “Thought you Ravenclaws were meant to be smart, and yet here you are, betraying us to Dad.”

“I’m not betraying us, I just said–”

“Do you think I’ll be in Ravenclaw?” Lily pipes up, before their argument can continue. Which is smart — once Jamie and Al get started, they can argue all day. Harry and Ginny have been awoken countless times to the sound of Jamie and Al arguing — or just having a conversation, because it’s sometimes hard to keep track of which is which.

“You could be,” Teddy says. “You’re really smart, Lils.”

Harry turns around in time to see Lily beam. “I wanna be in Gryffindor,” she declares. “Like you and Mum and Jamie, Dad.”

“Hey. What’s wrong with Ravenclaw?” Albus demands.

“Ravenclaw’s quite fun,” Scorpius agrees.

“Hufflepuff’s not bad, either,” Teddy puts in loyally.

“As long as you’re not in Slytherin, Lils,” Jamie says. “But you might be. You’re very sneaky, like a snake.”

“I won’t be!” Lily says.

“You might,” Jamie points out, settling back in his seat as he starts to play his favourite game: winding up his siblings.

“There’s nothing wrong if you are,” Ginny says.

“You thought Albus would be in Slytherin, and he wasn’t, so you don’t know anything,” Lily tells Jamie, crossing her arms.

Albus looks up, meets Harry’s eyes, and looks away again.

Harry thinks about the conversation he had with him on the platform, and then the one they had the following December, when Albus was back home for the holidays. Albus had been helping him make dinner, and then he’d confessed: You were right, Dad. The Hat let me choose where I wanted to go. I chose Ravenclaw. When Harry had asked — as gently as possible without being too prying, because Albus, unlike Jamie, could be scared off by too many questions — Albus had admitted why he chose Ravenclaw: because Scorpius had gotten Sorted into Ravenclaw before him, and he’d known that he wanted to be in the same House as him, even after only knowing him for the duration of one train ride.

“There’s nothing wrong with being in Slytherin, Lils,” he says, instead of saying what he’s thinking about.

“My dad was in Slytherin,” Scorpius says.

Ginny looks up at Harry but doesn’t say anything. Nor does Harry: both of their will power has gotten much better over the years. It also helps that Scorpius is one of the sweetest kids Harry’s ever met; he couldn’t be more different from what his father was like in school, and it’s served to soften Harry’s attitude towards Draco Malfoy the smallest amount.

“So was Voldemort,” Jamie says. “Just saying.”

“He wasn’t evil because he was in Slytherin, though,” Teddy says fairly. “He just happened to be an arse.”

“Language,” Harry says half-heartedly.

“If we’re not allowed to swear about Voldemort, then when can we?” Lily reasons.

“Besides, Dumbledore wouldn’t approve of you not letting us swear,” Jamie says.

“How do you work that out?” Ginny asks.

“Fear of the name of a swear word only increases fear of the thing itself,” Jamie says without hesitation.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry mutters, but suppresses a smile.

“Quick question, Jamie,” Ginny says, “wherever did you learn to be so cheeky?”

“What can I say, Mum? You and Dad have always been good teachers,” Jamie says sweetly.

*

They take it in turns to go onto the platform.

Lily holds onto Teddy’s hand as they go, and he keeps his arm wrapped protectively around her even as they run. Jamie turns to grin at Harry and Ginny. “I’ll see you on the train,” he says, and then disappears at a run, pushing his trolley with enough momentum that Harry, even after all these years, worries momentarily about him crashing into the platform.

“We should go next, I think,” Scorpius tells Albus. “Since your parents said they’d go last. So. Do you think, er. Should we go together?”

“Yeah,” Albus says immediately. “I mean. Yes. I think… that’s for the best, we should do it,” he says.

“Together?” Scorpius says. When Albus nods, Scorpius takes his hand. Albus’s cheeks turn a little pink, and then they both jog to the platform and disappear.

“You know,” Ginny says thoughtfully, “I always thought our kids would tell me when they started having crushes. And I never thought they’d be so obvious about it.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry says.

Ginny laughs. “Nothing. Come on, our turn,” she says, and drags a confused Harry with her to the platform.

“Ginny! Harry!” someone calls out to them, as soon as they’re past the wall between the platforms, and on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Harry’s children seemed to have disappeared in the steam of the train, but Harry’s had enough experiences with this to know they’ll show up eventually. Who does show up now, though, Neville Longbottom, appearing before them with a bright smile.

“Hi, Neville,” Ginny says warmly, and leans in to hug him.

Harry hugs him as well after, grinning at him. “What are you doing on the platform, Nev?” he asks. 

“McGonagall told me that you two are coming on the train, so I thought I’d join you on the journey,” Neville says. “I can’t believe you’re both coming to Hogwarts! McGonagall’s been trying to get you to come teach Defence for years, what finally convinced you?”

“Did she tell you about what happened in Hogsmeade?” Ginny asks Neville.

“She did, she was quite worried, she thinks–Oh,” Neville says, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. “Is that why you both agreed?”

Harry nods.

“Yeah, I’ve been a bit worried about it too. Been ages since we had to deal with Dementors. I’m glad you’re coming, though. Between us, we’ll have everyone producing a Patronus in no time,” Neville says confidently. “It’ll be much safer with you both there. Especially you, Harry.”

Harry can’t help be touched by Neville’s faith in him.

“Especially him? Ouch. You’re forgetting who ran Dumbledore’s Army with you during your last year?” Ginny asks, giving Neville a teasing nudge to the ribs with her elbow.

“Would that be Luna?” Harry asks innocently.

“Would what be me?” Luna asks as she walks up to them. Lorcan and Lysander are following her; Lorcan’s looking impatiently past Harry and Ginny — looking for Lily, no doubt — and Lysander has his mother’s dreamy expression on his face.

“Luna!” Ginny says, and tugs Luna into a hug before she hugs Lorcan and Lysander, too.

“Hi, you two. And Neville’s here, too,” Luna says happily.

“I’m going to go on the train, actually. Try and find a compartment near the front. But you’re still coming to Hogsmeade to see me and Hannah this weekend, right?” Neville asks Luna.

“Of course. It’ll be fun,” Luna says serenely. “Bye, Neville.”

“Come find me once you get on the train,” Neville adds to Harry and Ginny, who nod in response, and then Neville goes onto the train, wand clutched tightly in his hand the entire time.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Where’s Lily?” Lorcan asks.

“I think they went to the train,” Harry says. “To get their things on.”

“Oh, really? I thought they went to find Ron and Hermione,” Ginny says.

“Great. We’re not even at Hogwarts yet and we’re losing track of them,” Harry says.

“No, they’re over there,” Luna says, and points to the distance where, amidst the steam of the train, Harry can spot just about Jamie next to the train with Lily. Teddy’s helping them load their trunks on. Albus and Scorpius are nowhere to be found, but Harry’s stopped being surprised by that years ago.

“Oh, good,” Lorcan says, cheered up. “We’d better get on the train too, right? It’s nearly time, and we’ve got to find Hugo, too.”

“You’ll write, won’t you?” Lysander asks Luna nervously.

“And you’ll tell us how Dad’s trip to Romania goes?” Lorcan adds.

“Let’s give them a moment,” Ginny murmurs, and Harry steps aside with her to give them some privacy. 

“I’m a bit glad we don’t have to deal with sentimental goodbyes,” Harry admits to her quietly. “It would’ve been… tough, saying bye to Lily.” He loves his children equally, but Lily’s always been the baby of the family, younger than everyone — even younger than Hugo by a few months — and the idea of sending her away hadn’t been one that Harry had been looking forward to. He thinks he only got through Jamie and Al leaving because Lily had been there at home, brightening everything up with her presence.

“Yes. Me too,” Ginny admits and squeezes Harry’s hand.

“There you are!” says a familiar voice, and Harry looks up with a grin to see George and Ron striding towards them, with Freddie, Roxanne, Rose, and Hugo closely following.

“Hi,” Harry says happily. “Where’s Hermione? And Angelina?”

“Angelina’s at her father’s, he’s a bit poorly again,” George says.

“And Hermione had a meeting with someone from the Iranian Ministry that she couldn’t cancel,” Ron says.

“S’what happens when you’re married to the Minister for Magic,” George teases.

Ron smiles proudly.

“Hugo!” Lorcan says, having extricated himself from Luna’s embrace and running over to them. “Oh, good, you’re here. Lily’s with Jamie and Teddy, let’s go,” he says with a grin.

Hugo turns to look at Ron with wide eyes. “Bye, Dad,” he says, and his voice is barely louder than a whisper.

Ron ruffles Hugo’s hair. “Come on. I’ll help you with your things,” he says, clearly picking up on the fact that Hugo isn’t ready to say goodbye yet. “Come on, Rosie,” he adds. “You’ll have all the time to greet Harry and Ginny on the train, since they’ll be there with you,” he snorts.

“I should go, too. Find the other Prefects,” Freddie says.

“I can’t believe my own son is a Prefect,” George says, pretending to wipe a tear. “Couldn’t you have been Quidditch Captain like Jamie instead?”

“I don’t play Quidditch,” Freddie points out, not unreasonably.

“That’s no excuse,” George says.  

“I’ll try and break a toilet seat and send it to you to make up for it, if that helps,” Freddie says cheerfully.

“Fair deal,” George says, after considering it. “Write me and tell me when your Hogsmeade weekends are. I’ll pop by the branch there.”

“Cheers, Dad,” Freddie says delightedly. “Come on, Rox, let’s go.”

“Bye, Dad,” Roxanne says. She hugs George tightly.

“Bye, Roxie. Remember, it’s only your first year, but you’ve got a lot of mischief to cover. Don’t forget that,” he tells her, and pokes her nose, making her giggle. “And give both Professor Potters a lot of trouble, okay?”

“You know I will,” Roxanne giggles, and gives George one last hug before she follows Freddie to the train.

“Think you’ll be able to handle all the Weasleys and Potters this year?” George asks Harry.

“I think it’ll be tougher than handling Voldemort,” Harry says solemnly.

*

Back to index

Chapter 4: iv.

Author's Notes: as always, reviews make me v happy

“God. The train’s only just left, but I’m already exhausted. How do you handle teaching so many of my family members, Nev?” Ginny asks later, once they’re on the train.

It’s only the three of them in a compartment, close enough to the front that they can speak to the driver if necessary. Harry wouldn’t ever admit it, but he’s kept a mental note of where his children and everyone else are sitting, has a mental map of their seating arrangements ready to go, just in case. Constant vigilance. Jamie’s with Freddie and Leah Wood and Danielle Jordan, the way he always is, although Freddie and Leah have probably left to join the other Prefects by now. Albus and Scorpius are towards the back, in a compartment of their own with Rosie and a few other girls in their year, and Lily’s with Lorcan, Lysander, Hugo, and Roxanne. None of them are too far from him, which makes him feel better.

“To be fair, there are about fifty more joining this year,” Neville says, opening up a Chocolate Frog. “What with Lily, and Hugo, and Roxanne, and Luna’s twins… should be a fun year. Oh, look, you’re on this one,” he says, and passes Ginny the card.

Ginny looks down, wrinkling her nose. “They really didn’t choose a very flattering picture, did they?” she says, handing it to Harry.

“I don’t know, I think you look great,” Harry says, studying the card. It’s all things he knows about her, of course. Ginny Potter, formerly Weasley, professional Quidditch player, was instrumental in the defeat of Lord Voldemort in the Second Wizarding War, married to Harry Potter, the Chosen One… From the picture on the card, Ginny winks at him. She’s wearing her Holyhead Harpies robes, unbuttoned enough to show off the Galleon on the chain around her neck.

“You have to think that. You’re my husband, it’s a condition of our marriage,” Ginny says. “You have to love me forever and think I look fit no matter what.”

“It’s easy to promise, because you are fit no matter what,” Harry says.

Ginny winks at him, and then turns to Neville. “So how’s it going with Hannah, Nev?” she asks.

“Really well,” Neville says. “Actually, we think we’re going to sell the flat above the Leaky Cauldron this year. And live at Hogwarts full time. Since Madam Pomphrey’s finally retired, and it’s only her that’s the Healer there, so it makes sense for us to be there all year now.” He’s beaming widely; just the sight of it makes Harry smile, too.

“That’s great. So you’re the Head of Gryffindor House now, aren’t you?” Ginny says.

“I am, yeah,” Neville says.

“They couldn’t have found anyone better,” Harry says, and he means it.

“Thanks, Harry,” Neville says. “It’ll be nice to have you two there, too.”

That reminds Harry of why he’s there at all, and he straightens up in his seat. “What do you think of the Dementor attack, Neville?” he asks.

“I mean… it’s happened before, hasn’t it?” Neville says.

“Yeah. Before. When the Ministry sent them,” Harry says. “But the Ministry doesn’t work with them anymore.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Ginny mutters.

“So do you think… do you think it’s a Death Eater?” Neville asks.

“I think it’s either that the Dementors work for someone who isn’t us, or that they’re working on their own now,” Harry says. Both of those options are terrifying; he has no idea what he’d prefer.

“That’s not good, is it?” Neville says.

“No,” Harry says. “Not good at all.”

“But… it could just be a one-off thing,” Neville says. “Might not happen again.”

“It’s possible,” Harry says, and exchanges a glance with Ginny.

“There’s no point thinking about it now, anyway,” Ginny says. “We’ll deal with it if it happens. I think I want more Chocolate Frogs.”

“I’ll go find the trolley, get us some,” Neville offers.

“If you happened to see our children and make sure they’re alright,” Ginny says, faux-casually, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Neville says, grinning as he walks out.

*

Harry doesn’t know when he drifts to sleep, but he wakes up to the sound of Neville and Ginny talking quietly.

“And so she says she’ll tell me later this week,” Neville’s saying, as Harry blinks his eyes open. He’d fallen asleep in in the corner seat with his head resting on the window, and he can feel his glasses dig into the side of his head.

Harry yawns, slowly straightening up. He still feels disoriented from the sleepiness, and his head hurts, throbs with a dull sort of pain. He feels a bit fogged up all over, bleary in a way that’s different from how he usually feels when he wakes up.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” Ginny says from opposite him. She leans across and gently adjusts his glasses for him.

“Hi,” Harry says. “How long have I been asleep for?”

“Not long,” Ginny says. “Lils and Lorcan popped by to say hi a while back, but you didn’t miss anything else.”

“Oh,” Harry says, and then frowns. His first thought when he woke up was that he must’ve been asleep for a while, because it seems to have gone completely dark outside. “When did it get this dark?” he asks.

“It was sunny up until just now, when—” Ginny pauses, mid-word, and turns to look out of the window. The sun’s been out all day, but not anymore. It’s dark, unnaturally dark.

Harry right, then: It’s gone dark all at once.

Like magic, Harry thinks, and then suddenly remembers Vernon saying there’s no such thing as magic, boy! He hears Voldemort say Harry Potter… the boy who lived. And then there’s a familiar sound in his mind, a sound he’s gotten used to. The sound of his parents screaming. His father, saying Lily, take him and go! He thinks about Sirius, and Fred, and Lupin… and Dumbledore, at the base of the lightning-struck tower… All the people he couldn’t save…

There’s a groan, and then the train stops, right there, on its tracks. Through the train, Harry can hear gasps of shock.

Oh no, he thinks. Not again. Goddammit.

“Neville,” he says, and his voice sounds a bit off even to his own ears. “Go to the back of the train, would you? Cast a Patronus. Make sure the students are okay. Let me know if you see anything. And if you don’t find anything, go find the driver and check in with him.”

Neville, looking pale himself, gets up immediately.

Harry takes a deep breath once Neville has left, once it’s just them both in the compartment. “Gin,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Ginny says.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. He thinks about holding Jamie when he was first born and then says, “Expecto Patronum.” When he opens his eyes, Ginny’s Patronus is there too, bright and clear the way she is. “I’m going to go investigate,” he tells her, already buoyed by the presence of his stag and her horse. It’s gotten earlier to produce a Patronus over the years, but there’s a reason that his Boggart is still a Dementor, and it’s the same reason that he’d been so grateful when the Ministry stopped working with those creatures.

“Okay,” Ginny says. She looks a bit shaken up, and Harry can’t blame her. If the adrenaline wasn’t coursing through his veins right now, he wouldn’t be doing much better. “And—the kids—”

Harry takes Ginny’s hand, leads her out of the compartment. “Do you know where they are?”

“I’m assuming you do,” she says. Harry nods She takes a second, pulls herself together completely and tightens her grip on her wand. “Okay. Tell me where they are.”

Harry tells Ginny which compartments they’re all in, as quickly as they can. He’s suddenly glad beyond relief of his paranoia earlier. “I’ll go chase the bastard away,” he says.

“You do that. I’ll go check on the kids,” Ginny says, and then leans in and kisses Harry, very quickly.

*

Harry knows exactly how to find the Dementor. All he has to do is go against his instinct, to go towards the cold instead of away from it. His Patronus keeps him company as he walks through the hallway of the train, and he sees several students run to the doors of the compartments to look at him. They seem a bit reassured by his presence, but Harry doesn’t stop to talk to any of them. Time is of the essence here; he can’t risk their safety.

He finds the Dementor within a minute, near one of the sets of doors to board the train. The doors of the train usually stay closed through the journey until they reach, but Harry watches through the glass as the Dementor extends a skeletal claw and slides the doors open.

It isn’t possible.

It shouldn’t be possible.

And yet, Harry watches it happen.

Harry seems to have forgotten, or maybe never really thought about, just how terrible Dementors are. He can see it up close and personal, with its big, hooded, cloaked figure hovering off the ground. Its breath rattles as he faces it, and Harry summons up every last bit of courage he has.

“Go. You’re not welcome on this train,” he says.

The Dementor ignores him – which doesn’t surprise Harry – and drifts closer to him. This close, it’s hard to maintain his Patronus. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this cold in his life, not ever. His Patronus flickers but doesn’t disappear, but he still feels completely defenceless. His Patronus works to ward away Dementors, Harry knows it does, and the only reason it could fail now… is if there’s more. More Dementors, lurking out of sight. Hiding in the dark. Harry realises it immediately, and then curses himself for not realising it sooner.

Slowly, slowly, the Dementor in front of him pulls back its hood, revealing its empty scabbed-over eye sockets where an eye should be, a hole for a month. The most repulsive sight Harry’s ever seen in his life.

“Go!” he repeats, but his voice is weaker now.

This is it, Harry thinks. He’s going to die, he’s going to die here, surrounded by the foulest creatures on the planet, and he’s going to leave Ginny, and his family—

His family.

And then, as if thinking about it has summoned him, he hears a voice. A familiar voice, calling out to him desperately.

“Dad!”

He turns around, acts completely on instinct. He’s standing away from the compartments, in between coaches of the train. No students are here, except…

Except James.

Jamie’s standing there, looking more scared than Harry’s ever seen him. He must have run down the train, away from—no, Harry realises, with a sinking feeling in his heart. Not away from danger. That’s not like James. He would’ve heard the sound of Harry’s voice and run towards that, run to help his father.  

“Jamie,” Harry says, and then leans over, tugging Jamie close. “Say it with me, okay? Close your eyes, think of your happiest memory, and say it. I know you know the incantation,” he tells Jamie.

Jamie, ever the Gryffindor, nods bravely and extends his wand. His hands are shaking, Harry notices, but Harry’s Patronus shields them, keeps the Dementor at bay even if it hasn’t succeeding in chasing it away, not entirely. “Okay. Okay,” Jamie says, steeling himself, and then says. “Expecto Patronum.” Weak silver mist emerges from his wand, and he huffs.

“You can do it, Jamie,” Harry says, and wraps his arm around his son tightly. “Focus. Think about something happy, I know you can…”

“Expecto Patronum!” Jamie repeats, louder this time. There’s a second, a second where Harry thinks its failed, and then a silver stag erupts from Jamie’s wand and joins Harry’s.

The sight of it, the glorious sight of Jamie’s Patronus, makes Harry feels a thousand times better about everything; his own Patronus grows brighter, stronger, and Harry feels it the second it works. The Dementor retreats – no doubt, Harry thinks, followed by the others – and the unnatural cold, the unnatural dark subsides somewhat, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and fatigue.

“It’s like yours, Dad,” Jamie whispers, and leans into Harry’s side, allowing himself comfort in a way that he doesn’t. Jamie’s Patronus fades with a flicker, and Harry wraps both his arms tightly around Jamie, holding onto him even as the train slowly starts moving again. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to let go of his son, not ever. “My Patronus,” Jamie says, sounding about a second away from passing out, “it’s like yours,” he repeats.

“Well,” Harry says, his voice thick with so many emotions that he can’t begin to articulate. He thinks about his father, about Jamie’s namesake. “Not just like mine, Jamie.”

*

Back to index

Chapter 5: v.

Author's Notes: what do you think of everyone's Houses? let me know!

By the time they get back to the compartment, it’s completely crowded. Ginny and Neville have returned, along with Albus, Scorpius, Lily, Hugo, Rose, Lorcan and Lysander.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry whispers under his breath. They’re all here. They’re all safe. He’s still holding onto Jamie, and he only lets go when Lily runs up to him.

“Dad,” Lily whispers, sounding choked up, and Harry hugs her immediately. From the corner of his eye, he can see Ginny rush towards them, and then somehow, all four of them are trapped in a hug. Albus approaches them, and Harry tugs him into the hug without another thought, pulling back only once he’s reassured himself that everything’s safe. Everyone’s safe. For now.

“I brought chocolate,” Neville says, handing Harry a large chunk. Harry breaks it off, hands the larger piece to Jamie immediately.

“What happened?” Ginny demands.

“Dementors,” Harry says, and slumps into a seat. His knees suddenly feel weak, like they can’t him up anymore. Years of experience, and he still hates Dementors more than anything else. “James and I chased them off. Should be fine now.”

“James and you—does that mean—James, did you do a Patronus?” Ginny asks.

Jamie nods, and then asks, “Where are the others?” He sounds weak, and Harry notices that he hasn’t had a bite of his chocolate yet. “Freddie and Dani and—and Leah, where are they?”

“They’ll be safe, Jamie,” Ginny says.

“Roxanne went to find them,” Lorcan says. “I think they’re all in the Prefects’ carriage.”

“Which means they’ll be safe, Jamie,” Harry says. “Eat the chocolate before you do anything else. It really helps.”

“Professor Lupin always used to say that,” Neville says, sitting back down next to Harry.

“Is that—Teddy’s dad?” Lily asks in a small voice.

It’s a sign of how shaken up Jamie is that he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a bite of the chocolate and then offers it to Lily, who leans in to share it with him immediately. Jamie ruffles Lily’s hair, but he doesn’t say anything else. Harry remembers how he felt when he first faced a Dementor, and he thinks Jamie’s dealing with it far better than he did.

“It was, yeah. He taught us Defence for a year. When I was your age, Al,” Harry says. The adrenaline is leeching out of him, leaving nothing behind but exhaustion and relief.

Albus’s eyes are wide and fearful. “It’s good that you’re teaching us then, Mr. Potter. Since you got rid of all of them,” Scorpius pipes up from next to him. “Or is it Professor Potter now?”

“Whatever you prefer, Scorpius,” Harry says.  

“Are you sure they’re all gone now, Uncle Harry?” Rose asks.

Harry nods. “Positive,” he says. “And I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Jamie. He produced a corporeal Patronus, you know.”

“Did you really do a Patronus? Like—a proper one?” Albus asks Jamie. “What was it like?”

Jamie swallows his chocolate, and then runs his hand through his hair. He looks remarkably like his mum, Harry thinks, not for the first time. Harry can see the visible effort it takes Jamie to pull himself together.

“It was great,” Jamie finally says. “A stag, like Dad’s. I suspect yours will be a snake or a rat, Al.”

“Hey,” Albus says, looking affronted, but Harry feels nothing but relief. If Jamie’s back to teasing Albus, he can’t be feeling too bad.

“I’m going to go find the others, I think,” Jamie says. “I’ll see you all later.” He lets Lily hug him one last time and leaves, taking the chocolate with him.

“Are they really gone, Dad?” Lily asks Harry.

Harry nods, but when he meets Ginny’s eyes, she looks as worried as he feels. They’ve gone for now, but they don’t know why they came, what sent them. Which means they could come back any minute.

*

It’s raining when they reach Hogwarts, which feels appropriate. After greeting Hagrid at the platform, Ginny, him, and Neville get their own coach to Hogwarts, and McGonagall greets them at the entrance to the castle.

“Professor Longbottom, will you handle the first years?” she asks.

Neville nods immediately. “Of course. I already said I would, Professor,” he says.

“It never hurts to check,” McGonagall says. “Professor Potter and Coach Potter—”

“That feels very weird,” Ginny mumbles.

“—might I have a quick word before the feast?” McGonagall continues.

Harry’s been expecting this. “About the Dementor attack?”

McGonagall nods tersely.

“Not for too long, though,” Ginny says, and then smiles, “I’d like to see Lily get Sorted. I don’t want to miss that.”

McGonagall’s face softens into a smile. “Of course,” she says, and leads them both to her office.

“I don’t know,” is the first thing Harry says, once they’re sitting down in the familiar office. “Where they came from, who sent them.”

“There was more than one, then?” McGonagall says.

From behind McGonagall’s chair, the portrait of Dumbledore listens intently as Harry tells the story as best as he can. Ginny’s hand is warm and soft in his, and that’s what gives him the strength to tell McGonagall the story, all of the details that he can remember.

“So you’re telling me,” McGonagall says, once he’s finished telling her what he knows, “that James produced a corporeal Patronus for the first time today, under duress, having previously studied only the theory behind it?”

Harry nods.

“That’s all the motivation that I need to push him further in Transfiguration this year. I always knew he had great potential,” McGonagall says with a tiny smile. “So what are your theories about it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Harry says, and sighs. “I’ll speak to the Auror Department. Padma Patil’s running it while I’m away, and I’m sure she’ll have some theories.”

“I would consult Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, too, if I were you. It’s certainly a strategy that’s worked well for you in the past,” McGonagall says.

Harry laughs dryly. “I will,” he says.

“Very well,” McGonagall says. “I will inform the teachers to be on high alert. The Dementors have not breached Hogwarts grounds in twenty years, so we should be safe, but… they have not been near the Hogwarts Express in that long, too.”

“So we can’t be too sure,” Ginny says.

McGonagall shakes her head. “We can’t, no. But I am grateful that you were both on the train, along with Longbottom. Had the students been unprotected…”

“It wouldn’t have been good,” Harry says.

“It would not, no,” McGonagall says. “Very well. It is nearly time for the feast, and we had better go. After all, I have some new teachers to announce, after all.”

They get there just in time for the Sorting, but seem to have missed the Sorting Hat’s song. McGonagall shows them to their seats – Harry’s relieved that they seem to be sitting in between an empty seat that must belong to Neville and Hagrid – before she sits down in the large chair in the centre. She nods at Neville, and he gets out a piece of parchment – a list, Harry knows, with all the first-years on it.

It’s easy, now that he’s at Hogwarts, to sink back into the normalcy it offers him. He’s been back a few times, to give Defence talks, because it’s impossible to ever say no to McGonagall, and he’s sat here before. It’s easy, in the Great Hall, with the night sky above him and four tables in front of him, to forget all about the encounter with the Dementors. Hogwarts has always felt safe to him, and he feels safe now.

The Sorting begins: Harry watches as ‘Adams, Grace’ is Sorted into Gryffindor, and claps obligingly. Of all the familiar faces, Lily is the first to be Sorted.

“Lily Potter,” Neville calls out.

Lily looks a bit pale as she walks to the stool. Neville places the Hat on her head. There’s a seemingly interminable pause. Lily’s back is to Harry and the others at the table, but Harry can picture her expression: screwed up in concentration, arguing – no doubt – with whatever the Hat is saying.

“SLYTHERIN!” the Hat finally announces.

Harry turns to Ginny, who looks shocked, but then she smiles at him. “If anyone could get Slytherins to be less bigoted, it’s our Lils,” she whispers, and then joins in the applause.

Harry claps, too, louder than anyone else, and he watches as Lily walks to the Slytherin table and takes her seat.

Lorcan’s right after Lily. He’s frowning as he walks to the stool, and within a minute or so—

“SLYTHERIN!”

Harry sees a smile on Lorcan’s face, and he all but runs to go sit next to Lily at the Slytherin table.

“Well, at least we know she’ll have a friend there,” he murmurs to Ginny.

“More like a teammate and ally in whatever mischief she gets up to,” Ginny whispers back.

Lysander’s sorted in Ravenclaw. And then are a few more names that Harry doesn’t recognise – but he’s sure that he’ll get to know them over the year as he teaches them – and then, finally, the Weasleys.

Hugo’s first, and he’s Sorted into Hufflepuff almost immediately – “could’ve guessed that one,” Ginny muses – and Roxanne, the final first year, is Sorted into Gryffindor, where she goes to sit next to Jamie and Freddie with a bright smile.

With Roxanne, the Sorting is complete, and Neville makes his way, sitting next to Harry and offering them a bright smile. McGonagall gets to her feet, surveying the students with a strict look; Harry wonders if everyone can see the softness in her expression, the slight smile on her features, or if he just knows her better now than when he was a student.

“Welcome to all our new students. And to our returning students, welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. There will be some announcements to be made, of course, but first… enjoy the Feast,” McGonagall announces and then sits back down.

“I think I’ve missed the food here most of all,” Ginny tells Harry, as she starts to fill up her plate.

“It is good, isn’t it?” Harry says appreciatively.

As he starts to eat and sinks into the familiarity of the Welcome Feast at Hogwarts, the Dementors have never seemed further away.

*

Once the Feast is over, McGonagall gets to her feet and clears her throat. Miraculously – as if by magic, Harry thinks dryly – everyone falls silent.

“Thank you. Before it is time to go back to the common rooms, there are some announcements I would like to make,” she says. “First off, the Forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students, unless supervised by Professor Hagrid.”

Harry turns to grin at Hagrid, who winks at him.

“Secondly, magic in the corridors between classes is also forbidden. And certain products from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes –” next to Harry, Ginny snorts– “are forbidden as well. The list is available outside Mr. Filch’s office. Finally,” McGonagall says, sounding more serious, “I am sure that everyone is aware of the Dementor attack on the train. I reassure you that everyone at Hogwarts takes these matters very seriously. As I’m sure you have noticed, we have two new teachers with us. Professor Potter will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Coach Potter will be your Flying Instructor. I’m sure nobody here needs the reminder, but both of them are prodigiously skilled in dealing with Dark Arts, and will ensure that the security of the castle is not breached. With that being said, it is important to stay vigilant. Please report anything suspicious to your Prefects or Head of House, and go to them with any concerns.”

Harry suddenly feels every single set of eyes on him, and his cheeks feel oddly warm.

“You’d think you’d have gotten used to being looked at by now,” Ginny mutters to him.

“Yeah. You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Harry murmurs back.

“It’ll be alright,” Ginny whispers, and squeezes his hand. There’s the sound of the scraping back of all the benches and chairs, which Harry takes to mean that McGonagall’s dismissed the crowd.

“We should go,” Harry says. He’s exhausted; today’s felt longer than most days, and he’s looking forward to bed.

They’re staying in the quarters for the Defence teacher, since it’s a bit bigger than the one for the Flying Instructor – “and a bit more central,” McGonagall had told them dryly, “which will be useful, since I’m sure you’ll want to keep an eye on all your children” – and it’s not too far from the Great Hall.

“You know what I’m glad about?” Ginny says, as they start walking up to the third floor. Feeling a bit extra protective than usual, they’d both managed to see all three of their children and make sure they’re alright, but because of the chaos of everyone in the Great Hall leaving, they hadn’t managed to stay for too long before getting swept away out of the doors. Luckily, Jamie, Al, and Lily all know where they’re staying, in case of emergencies.

“What’s that?” Harry asks.

“I’m glad that McGonagall told us that they refurbished the castle and reassigned the Defence classroom and quarters after the war.”

“Yeah?” Harry says.

“Yeah,” Ginny says, and catches Harry’s eyes. “Can you imagine staying in the same room that Umbridge once stayed in?”

Harry wrinkles his nose, following Ginny into the quarters after she opens the door. “You’ve definitely got a point there,” he says.

It’s a tiny set of rooms. A bedroom and an attached bathroom, and a sitting room with a sofa, a kettle for tea, and a little desk and chair. Their things have already been sent up, and they both get to work changing for bed.

“It’s going to be a long day tomorrow,” Ginny says, resting her head on his shoulder once they’re both in bed. “First full day of classes. Did you see the timetables McGonagall gave us?”

Harry nods. “Oh, yeah. I’ve got a double period with Gryffindor fifth-years and then the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw third-years tomorrow morning, and then the Slytherin first-years in the afternoon, and then the Hufflepuff second-years. Which means…”

“That you’ll be facing all our children, and also about a thousand questions about the Dementors,” Ginny says. “And the war. You should expect some war questions, too.”

“And Voldemort questions.”

“No, can’t forget those. I’m not looking forward to those, either,” Ginny admits.

“It’s going to be a very long day,” Harry says.

Ginny pats his cheek. “I think it’s going to be a very long year,” she says cheerfully, and Harry lets out a soft groan before he lays back down to sleep. He’s going to need all the rest he can get.

Back to index

Chapter 6: vi.

Author's Notes: thank you to everyone who's been leaving me reviews! they help me write faster and mean the world to me. i love you all

Harry’s first class of the day – of the year, of his teaching career – is with the fifth-year Gryffindors. He wants to be there early to set up a few things, so he rushes through breakfast, eating as fast as he can without being too obvious about it.

“You might want to give chewing a go. You’re basically inhaling all your food,” Ginny says, amused.

“In a hurry, Harry?” Hagrid asks.

Not being obvious has failed. “Just want to make sure I’m not late, is all.”

“Who’s your first class with?” Hagrid asks.

“The fifth year Gryffindors,” Harry says, helping himself to another slice of toast and taking a sip of his still-scalding hot tea.

“They’re… a lively bunch,” Neville puts in from next to Hagrid.

Hagrid snorts. “Lively is right… you’re gonna have your hands full with young James, Harry.”

“And Freddie, too, don’t forget about him,” Neville says. “And the other Gryffindors, for that matter. That Danielle…”

“Good luck,” Hagrid tells Harry seriously. “You’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry grins. He washes down his toast by finishing his tea and gets to his feet.

“Try not to give our son detention,” Ginny says.

Harry can’t resist leaning in and kissing her cheek. “No promises,” he says, flashing her a smile before he makes his way to the classroom.

It’s the same classroom Lupin had used in his third year, and the thought of it makes him smile as he waves his wand. He moves the desks and chairs out of the way to the corner, pressed up against the wall, leaving most of the classroom bare and empty. Plenty of room. Having done that, he conjures up some floor cushions, and finally, Summons an old creaking cabinet from the teachers’ staff room.

The Gryffindors file in right on time; there are about fourteen, and Harry recognises most of them from the few times in the past years he’s stopped by Hogwarts to give a talk about Defence. They’re wearing curious expressions, most of them, and they look eager. Harry watches them, glancing at each of them before his gaze settles on James.

Jamie’s in the front of the group, with his usual friends: Freddie, of course, Leah Wood, and Danielle Jordan. Freddie and Leah have their Prefect badges pinned to their robes, and if Harry didn’t know them, he’d think they were the picture of responsibility. James seems to be re-enacting a Quidditch match, and he has the rest of them laughing, open and free in a way that Harry wasn’t when he was their age. He’s incredibly grateful for it. And then, watching them laugh, he suddenly thinks about the Marauders from the Pensieve, about his dad ruffling his hair and laughing with Sirius and Remus and Peter. Jamie has the same Patronus as James did, too, and similar messy hair, even if it’s the red of his mother’s…

He clears his throat, both to snap himself out of his sudden reverie and to get everyone’s attention.

“Hi,” he says. “Er… good morning.”

Jamie raises a hand and waves at him cheerfully. “Hi, Professor Dad,” he says.

“Uncle Professor,” Freddie says without missing a beat.

“Alright, alright,” Harry says, but he can’t hide his amusement. He perches on the edge of his desk. “Okay. We have a lot to do today, but first… I know you all have questions, especially after everything that happened on the train.” He sees, from the corner of his eye, Jamie fidgeting uncomfortably, but he doesn’t draw attention to it. “So. Ask away, and I’ll do my best to answer what I can before we get to it. But do me a favour and tell me your names, too. And —yeah?” he asks, when he sees a girl behind Freddie raise her hand.

“Maya Abernathy. Where are we meant to sit, Professor?” she asks.

“Wherever you’d like,” Harry says mildly. He’s still not used to being called Professor, rather than Auror Potter or even Head Auror Potter. “You won’t be sitting for long, so… grab a cushion, or a chair. That goes for everyone, by the way. Get comfortable.”

He waits. It takes a few minutes for everyone to pull up chairs or cushions and get settled down. “Right,” he says, once everyone’s watching him. They all seem to be paying far more attention to him than he can remember paying most of his teachers, and his face feels a bit warm. “Who’s next?”

Freddie raises his hand. “Yes, sir, I’m Freddie Weasley, sir,” he says, and Harry rolls his eyes fondly. “Why’ve you moved our desks to the side?”

“You’ll find out,” Harry said, and pushes up the sleeves of his robes, waiting for the next question. Like clockwark, it arrives:

A boy at the back is next to raise his hand. “Rory Finnigan. Professor, what happened on the train?”

Harry takes a minute to form his words. “There was… a Dementor,” he says. “And I think more than one – most Dementors don’t travel alone, and I think I saw more – but there was only one on the train. It stopped the train, and attempted to board.”

“How did the Dementor get on?” Maya Abernathy asks.

Harry considers. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “The Ministry of Magic have not associated with Dementors in years. Decades, really. Nor has Hogwarts. So we don’t know how it got there, why they thought to attack the train…”

“And was that why it went dark?” Rory asks.

Harry bites his lip. He thinks of sugar-coating the truth, but these aren’t just children. They’ll be of age in a few years, and they deserve the truth. He remembers how he feels when Lupin first taught him about Dementors, and the relief that the knowledge of how to chase them away brought him. “Dementors… they’re terrible, terrible things. They suck the happiness out of their surroundings, and they feed on the misery and despair of others. Make it go dark and foggy, remind you of your worst memories. Until they leave or are chased off, it’s impossible to feel truly happy.”

The girl sitting next to Rory is next. “Jaspreet Patel. Professor, so how did you chase the Dementor off?”

“A Patronus. He’s done it before, you know,” Danielle Jordan says, without raising her hand. “Produced his first Patronus when he was thirteen.”

Harry raises his eyebrow at Danielle.

“What? You’re kind of a celebrity, Professor Potter,” Danielle says, unrepentant. “We’d know about it even if you weren’t Jamie’s dad. My dad says your Patronus is famous. It’s a stag, right?”

Harry meets Jamie’s eyes. Jamie grins at him, but doesn’t say anything. For whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to have told his friends about his Patronus, and so Harry doesn’t comment about that. Instead, he nods at Danielle. “Danielle’s right. I used a Patronus.” Anticipating the next question, Harry says, “Patronuses are the best way of dealing with Dementors. It’s sort of… an embodiment of your best memories, your joy, but without the sadness, so the Dementors have nothing to feed on. That’s how it chases them away.”

“Can you show us yours?” Leah Wood asks eagerly. “Please, Professor?”

Everyone seems to be sitting up straighter, Harry notices, and paying closer attention, which is why he gives in. “Expecto Patronum,” Harry says, and watches as the stag gambols around the classroom before disappearing. Jamie in particular is delighted to see it, and Leah and Danielle giggle. “In its corporeal and most effective form, Patronuses take the form of animals,” Harry continues. “Mine is a stag. But it takes time to develop corporeal Patronuses. At first, it’s more like—like silver mist, or something, but practice makes perfect. And, of course, it’s much harder to produce in situations of actual peril.”

“We’ve studied Patronuses before,” Jaspreet says. “But we’ve never had to do it. We’ve studied the theory…”

“Usually, practical lessons like that are reserved for NEWT students,” Harry says. He’s been studying the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum from the last year. “And for younger students, they stick with the theory.”

“But if the Dementors were on the train, couldn’t they get to Hogwarts as well?” Leah Wood asks, looking pale now that the Patronus has faded. She shifts a little closer to Jamie, and he brushes his shoulder against hers. “Shouldn’t we know how to protect ourselves?”

“We’ve increased the security at Hogwarts,” Harry says. “And every Professor knows defensive magic, and Patronuses, and we’re all on the lookout. But,” he adds, “You’re right to worry. All of you, you’re right to ask questions. One of my teachers had a saying: constant vigilance. So I will be teaching you Patronuses.” He raises a hand when he hears their excited gasps and whispers. “But not today. First, the basics. So. I want everyone to pair up. Today we’ll be practising—”

“Will it be Expelliarmus, Professor?” Jamie asks innocently. “Out of curiosity. Just a random guess.”

“Well. Other wizards can’t attack you if they don’t have their wand,” Harry says. “And,” he says, remembering the first ever Dumbledore’s Army lesson, “it’s saved my life. So yes, James, first Disarming.”

“We’re in fifth year,” pipes up someone from the back. Harry looks at whoever spoke up: a girl, who’s frowning at him. “I’m Fatima Sheikh, Professor,” she adds. “Isn’t Expelliarmus a bit rudimentary? It’s not even on the OWL curriculum, isn’t it too simple for us?”

“If so, today’s lesson should be very easy, then, and we can move on to more complex things quickly,” Harry says and Fatima sits back, mollified by that. “So, get into pairs, please. I want one of you to attempt to Disarm the other, and the other to attempt to block the attack with Protego. But first… a demonstration, because wand movements are as important as the actual incantation and I want to make sure we don’t make any simple mistakes. If any of you want to volunteer…”

Jamie’s hand is up in the air before anyone else’s, and Harry is not surprised at all.

“Come on then, Mr. Potter,” Harry says.

“Thanks, Professor Potter,” James says easily. He gets up and walks to the desk. “Do me a favour and don’t embarrass me in front of Leah,” he says, only audible to Harry’s ears.

Harry bites back an amused smile. “Alright,” he says, and then, to the rest of the class, “Okay. I’m going to try and Disarm James – with Expelliarmus – and he’s going to try and block my attack with the Shield Charm – Protego.” He demonstrates the movement for both with his wand as he talks. “Ready, James?” he asks.

Jamie nods and stands, wand at the ready.

“Okay. Three, two, one,” Harry counts off, and then says, “Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!”

A second’s pause, and then Harry’s wand clatters to the floor. Harry grins at James. “Well done,” he says. “Five points to Gryffindor. Alright, everyone, team up and get to work.”

Jamie winks, picks up Harry’s wand, hands it back to him, and returns to his friends.

Slowly, everyone gets up and pairs off. Jamie and Freddie have paired up, Harry notices, as have Leah and Danielle. Harry leaves them alone, figuring that he’ll get to them later. He makes his way through the classroom, correcting little things here and there. He can’t help but be reminded of the first DA lesson yet again, but this time, he doesn’t have to worry about Umbridge, which is always a bonus.

“Alright,” he calls out at the end of the double period, once everyone’s had a chance to both successfully Disarm and Shield a few times. “For next week, I want you to write an essay about a situation where you think Expelliarmus or Protego can help. And no,” he adds, catching Freddie’s eye, “battling Voldemort doesn’t count, so don’t try that. Due next week, so don’t put it off for too long.”

Jamie lingers back at the end of the class, once everyone has left.

“So, how embarrassing was I?” Harry asks, going to his desk and sitting down.

“Not too bad, all things considered,” Jamie says, but his usual mischievous look is gone. “Dad—will they come back?”

“The Dementors?” Harry asks. When Jamie nods, Harry says, “I don’t know. I really hope not. We’re looking into it, though.”

“Don’t know how the Aurors will figure out anything with you gone,” Jamie grumbles. “But don’t worry, Dad. We’ll figure it out together from here.”

Harry watches James go, smiling a little to himself. He’d say his first class, all things considered, can be counted as a success.

*

Back to index

Chapter 7: vii.

Author's Notes: hope you enjoy! as always, let me know what you think

Ginny’s last flying lesson of the week is with the first year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. It’s their first class ever, which means this is the first time Ginny’s going to be teaching Lily. She’s been looking forward to it all week. She looks around, once she’s at the Quidditch pitch, waiting for her students. She’s missed it here. Some of her best memories at Hogwarts have been out on the pitch. She gives herself a moment to give into the nostalgia, to think about being on the Quidditch team with Harry, on her fifth year. Being Seeker her fourth year. Being made Quidditch Captain her final year. Harry, visiting to see her team win the Quidditch Cup. Her smile only grows wider when she sees Lily, who’s running up to her with Lorcan and Hugo in tow, practically tripping over her robes in her eagerness.

“Lils!” Ginny says.

“Mum!” Lily says, and hugs Ginny tightly. “We came here early to see you. I can’t believe you’re the one teaching us flying!”

“It’s quite exciting, Aunt Ginny,” Hugo says. “I mean, Coach Ginny. Coach Potter. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m meant to call you.”

Ginny gives her nephew a fond look. “Call me whatever you want, Hugo. I don’t mind. How’s your first proper week of school been, you lot?”

“It’s been fun,” Lily says, letting go of Ginny. “We had Charms in the morning. I love Professor Flitwick, he’s so cool. Well, not Hugo, he had– what did you have, Hugo?”

“Transfiguration,” Hugo says.

“He had Transfiguration,” Lily says. “But me and Lorcan had Charms, with the other Slytherins.”

“And,” Ginny asks delicately, “how are the other Slytherins doing?” She looks from Lily to Lorcan.

Lorcan shrugs. “They’re… nice.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow.

“They are!” Lily says. “The ones in our year, anyway. We’re all making friends. There are only four girl in my year, and none of them are too bad.”

“The boys aren’t too bad, either,” Lorcan says.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ginny says. She knows they’re way back House prejudices now, but she does worry about the Slytherins sometime. She doesn’t think she can help it.
What about the older ones, are they giving you any trouble?” she asks.

“The older ones are staying out of our way. I think they’re scared of Lily,” Lorcan says.

“Can’t blame them,” Hugo mutters. “I’m a bit scared of you too, Lils, even though you’re my best friend.”

“Good,” Lily says, and crosses her arms. “I’m very scary. I should know, I worked hard on it!”

Ginny shakes her head, but smiles. “Remind me to teach you the Bat-Bogey Hex later on. If they’re going to be scared, they may as well have a reason to be,” she says with a wink.

“Honestly, Mrs. Potter,” Lorcan says, “you are so cool.”

Ginny winks at Lorcan. “Alright, you three didn’t hear it from me, but I saved three of the least bad brooms for you,” she says, and points out the three Cleansweeps in the corner.

Lily grins, and tugs Hugo and Lorcan along with her to the brooms.

Ginny waits for everyone to arrive, which takes another five minutes, and then clears her throat. “Alright, everyone,” she calls out, gratified when everyone fixes her with their complete attention. “Welcome to your first official flying lesson. We’re going to keep it simple today. We’ll learn how to mount a broom, maybe hover for a few minutes if you’re lucky, and then I’m going to take you through some very basic training exercises that will help you keep your balance and make sure your stamina’s good for when you’re airborne. The last thing you need when you’re flying is to lose your breath or balance. That’s the plan for today. Any questions?”

A Slytherin girl who’s standing next to Lorcan raises her hand immediately. “Yes! Is it true that you fought Voldemort?”

Ginny blinks, confused. “I mean… not really. Not directly. I like to think I helped, though. I really meant more flying-related questions, though…”

“Oh! Didn’t you play for England? And for the Holyhead Harpies?” asks a Hufflepuff with eager eyes.

“That one is true, yes,” Ginny says. “For five years or so, right after I finished school.”

“And is it true Gwenog Jones said you’re the best Chaser she ever had on her team?” asks a boy, another Hufflepuff.

Ginny snorts at that, but she can’t hold back her smile. “Did she say that? She must’ve been in a good mood, then. Alright, everyone, we’re going to start. I want everyone to hold their right hand over their broom, and say ‘up’, as clearly as you can. Really show the broom that you want it, you know? Let’s get started.”

An hour later, every single student — even the ones who’d never seen a broom before in their lives — have managed to ride a broom and stay aloft for a few minutes. She’s also gotten everyone through a round of exercises and warm-ups that would make Gwenog Jones proud. Not to mention, everyone seems happy and excited, so it’s been a good lesson, Ginny thinks.

Much to Ginny’s surprise, Lily hangs back after the class is over. So do Lorcan and Hugo. “Come on, Mum,” Lily says, and tugs Ginny along with her. “We’re going to be late.”

“Late for what?” Ginny says.

“Didn’t you tell her?” Hugo asks Lily.

“I’ve been busy, Hugo,” Lily says, using her free hand to toss her hair over her shoulder.

“Is Jamie bringing Lysander?” Lorcan asks.

“No, Al and Rosie will,” Lily says confidently. “Jamie’s bringing Roxanne.”

“What about Freddie? He’s coming too, isn’t he?” Hugo asks.

“Coming where?” Ginny asks.

“I think so,” Lily says, ignoring Ginny. “Come on, Mum.”

Ginny considers, and then shrugs, deciding to give in and see what Lily has planned. All the years raising her children has taught her to go with the flow at times like these. “Lead the way, then,” she says.

She follows the three of them into the castle and then — to her surprise — up to the third floor and to the quarters where she and Harry are staying.

“Here we are,” Lily says cheerfully, once she’s opened the door.

Harry’s sitting on the sofa, looking bemused. Next to him are Albus Scorpius and Rose, and Lysander, who stands up and rushes to join Lorcan.

Once Lily lets go of Ginny’s arm, Ginny goes to sit down next to Albus, and ruffles his hair. “What are you doing here?” she asks.

“James found us during break and told us to come here right after our classes got over,” Albus says, and shrugs.

“We find it’s best not to question him too much,” Scorpius says seriously.

“That’s fair,” Ginny agrees. “First week going alright, then?”

Albus nods. “McGonagall transformed into her Animagus form during Transfiguration today.”

“And Professor Potter showed us his Patronus,” Scorpius pipes up.

“He does like to show that off,” Ginny says, and leans over to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Hi,” she says softly.

“Hi,” Harry echoes, smiling at her. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“None at all,” Ginny says cheerfully.

“Dad,” Lily says. “We’re going to need some more places to sit.”

“We are, are we?” Harry says, but waves his wand, and Lily, Hugo, Lorcan and Lysander settle down on the floor cushions he’s conjured up.

The door bangs open, and Jamie and Freddie swagger in, followed by Roxanne. “Oh,” Jamie says, “Good. Everyone’s here. We can get started.”

“I’m glad we’re the last ones here. It’s nice to make an entrance, isn’t it?” Freddie says, and waves at Harry and Ginny. “Hi, Uncle Professor and Aunt Coach. Roxie, take a seat.”

Roxanne promptly goes to sit down with Lily and the others, and Freddie closes the door firmly behind them.

“Now that everyone’s here,” Jamie says, taking a moment to survey everyone before he continues. “The first meeting of Potter’s Army can come to order.”

*

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, “did you say Potter’s Army?”

He’s had a long day; a long week, really. He’s enjoying teaching a surprising amount, but it’s exhausting. He’d been looking forward to coming back after his last class of the day and maybe having a tiny nap before dinner, but he’d just about gotten back to their quarters when Albus, Scorpius, Rose and Lysander had showed up, making themselves comfortable without providing Harry with any explanation as to why they’re there.

Jamie nods, looking every inch like his grandfather and namesake. “I did.”

“So what’s this all about?” Harry says.

“Well,” Jamie says, “you started a club when you were fifteen, didn’t you? I’m just following in your footsteps.”

“Hopefully with less battling Voldemort,” Freddie puts in, “we’re not too keen on that part.”

“I don’t think Potter’s Army is a very good name,” Albus says thoughtfully.

Lysander raises a hand. “I’m confused,” he says when Jamie looks at him. “Which Potters are we fighting for?”

“We’re not fighting for any Potter,” Jamie says patiently.

“Why’s it called Potter’s Army, then?” Scorpius asks.

“Well,” Jamie says, “because we, the Potters —”

“And Weasleys,” Freddie says.

“And Weasleys–”

“And the friends of Potters and Weasleys.”

“Yes, and them,” Jamie agrees. “We, the Potters and Weasleys our friends, are going to defend Hogwarts. And fight whoever threatens us. Hence: Potter’s Army.”

“How are we going to do that?” Roxanne asks.

“Excellent question, cousin,” Jamie says. “We’re going to solve the Dementor problem. Between us, we have people in all four Houses, plus two Professors–well, one Professor and a flying instructor–”

“Thanks for that, Jamie,” Ginny mutters. Harry grins at her.

“So,” Jamie continues smoothly, “we’re going to keep an eye out. Report anything suspicious. Meet when we can. Practice Defence magic, so that we’re never caught unawares.”

Harry looks at Jamie, and wonders if he’s ever considered being an Auror.

“Does that mean I’m an official friend of the Potters, then?” Scorpius asks.

“Of course you are,” Al says before Jamie can say anything. He shifts a bit closer to Scorpius’s side. “Right?” he looks at the others, as if daring them to disagree.

“Right,” Harry says.

“And I came up with it,” Jamie says. “Well, me and Freddie, but I thought of it first, which is why it’s Potter’s Army and not Weasley’s Army.”

“Jamie, I really don’t know if I like the idea of all of you investigating… you’re still young, and it could be dangerous.”

Jamie levels him with his best unimpressed look. “Dad,” he says, “come on.”

“How can you say that, after everything you got up to in school?” Lily demands.

“You battled a dragon when you were not much older than I am,” Albus says.

“You did? You have to tell us that story sometime, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius says.

“Not to mention, you fought Voldemort about a thousand times,” Roxanne says.

“That was… a different time,” Harry says, but it sounds weak to his own ears.

“Surely if it’s a different time, then it’s less dangerous for us to investigate than it was when you did it,” Rose says, with impeccable Ravenclaw logic.

Ginny straightens up. “Alright, fine. Potter’s Army. But not in the grounds in the evenings by yourself, and no being stupid just for the chance at bravery.”

Jamie looks at Freddie, who nods. “We agree to those terms,” he says.

“And,” Harry says, “if you get into too much trouble, then neither of us will shield you from McGonagall’s anger.” He’s pleased to see everyone look a bit scared at that. “And are we sure about the name?” he adds.

“Harry Potter’s Defence League?” Freddie suggests immediately.

“The Chosen One’s chosen ones?” Jamie says without missing a beat.

“The Boy Who Lived to Have a Defence Club?” Freddie says.

“The–”

“That’s enough,” Harry says, shaking his head. Next to him, Ginny’s biting back a smile.

“I like Potter’s Army,” Lorcan puts in from where he’s sitting next to Lily.

“Me too,” Albus says with a little smile.

“Me too,” Lily says with an air of finality. Harry sighs; he knows he’s lost the battle when all three of his children agree on something

“Fine,” he says. “Potter’s Army it is, then.”

*

Back to index

Chapter 8: viii.

On the evening of the third Friday of the term, Harry sits down at the teachers’ table in the Great Hall, in between Neville and McGonagall, to eat dinner. It’s been a long day, filled with classes with barely any breaks, and he feels almost as tired now as he does at the end of a long day at the Ministry.

McGonagall’s sitting in the Headmistress’s chair in the centre, as always, and when she turns to look at Harry, she looks as tired as she feels. “How are you finding teaching, Professor Potter?” she asks.

Harry wrinkles his nose, the way he always does when McGonagall calls him that. “It’s been going good,” he says, helping himself to more potatoes. “Tiring, though.”

“Indeed,” McGonagall agrees.

“I still don’t know why you still teach Transfiguration when you’re Headmistress, too, Professor,” Neville says.

“Well, I’d be happy to retire from teaching if I found a suitable replacement,” McGonagall says.

“More suitable than you? That won’t happen,” Neville says.

Harry gets the feeling that Neville and McGonagall have had this conversation several times.

“I would appreciate the weekend off, though,” McGonagall admits. “Speaking of which, will you both be supervising the students’ visit to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

It’s the first official Hogsmeade weekend of the term, and Harry’s looking forward to going — mostly so he can ask Rosmerta about the Dementor attack again. So far, he’s forced to admit that he hasn’t made any leeway on the investigation, not as much as he would’ve liked. He’s spoken to Padma Patil, who’s the acting Head of the Auror Department, and he and Ginny have been doing their best to look into things as much as they can at Hogwarts. He went to Hogsmeade last weekend, just to speak to Rosmerta, but it’d been to no avail.

“I don’t know,” she’d told him, pouring out another Firewhiskey for herself. “I stepped out in the morning, and then there they were, all of a sudden. Two Dementors. Luckily, I had my wand with me, and a Patronus got rid of them.”

“And they didn’t come back? And you didn’t see anyone in the area?” Harry’d pressed.

“No. They didn’t, and it was completely empty on the street. If it hadn’t been for my neighbours seeing it from their window, I would have thought it was a bad dream.”

So that was a dead end, but Harry hasn’t given up hope yet. He’s got some Aurors stationed near Hogsmeade, on the lookout for any suspicious activity, but so far, all the leads that the department’s investigating seem flimsy at best. Which is why he’s looking forward to going to Hogsmeade tomorrow and seeing what he can find out.

Neville nods at McGonagall. “We’re all going. Hannah’s going, too,” he says. “Is Ginny coming, Harry?”

“She is, yeah. Do you know where she is, by the way?” Harry asks.

The corner of McGonagall’s mouth twitches. “I believe that James, in his capacity as Quidditch Captain, booked the pitch in order to consult the Flying Coach about some Quidditch strategies.”

Harry grins. “That sounds about right.”

“I never thought I’d meet someone more into Quidditch than you and Gin are,” Neville puts in.

“He takes after his mum,” Harry says proudly.

“He seems to be taking after his father, too,” McGonagall puts in. “When it comes to forming secret Defence societies…”

“I heard about that! I heard James and Freddie talking about it during Herbology yesterday,” Neville says.

Harry’s face warms up, but he laughs.

“Nothing secret about this one,” he points out.

“Nothing illegal, too,” Neville says, grinning.

“Yes, well, I certainly hope it remains that way,” McGonagall says, but she seems to be holding back a smile. “Although I have to say, I am not opposed to the idea of a Defence club. It may please you to know, Harry–” Harry notes with relief that she’s dropped Professor Potter– “that now that you have a classroom at your disposal, you will not need the Room of Requirement for Potter’s Army.”

“Potter’s Army?” Neville repeats.

“Jamie named it,” Harry says, which seems to be all the explanation that both McGonagall and Neville need.

Harry practically scarfs down his dinner with how hungry he is; something about being at Hogwarts makes him have the appetite of a teenager again. Once he finishes dinner, he says goodbye to McGonagall and Neville and gets up.

Just after he leaves the Great Hall he spots, a muddy-looking Jamie and an equally muddy Ginny by the entrance of the castle. He feels a smile break out onto his face as he walks up to them. “Hi,” he says happily, and leans in so he can kiss Ginny. He’s suddenly overwhelmed by memories, of Ginny coming into the common room, muddy from Quidditch practice.

“Hi,” Ginny echoes when she pulls back from the kiss. “Quite a welcome, Potter,” she teases.

“Hi, Dad,” Jamie puts in. “Can we use your classroom for the meeting tonight?”

“What meeting tonight?” Harry asks, a bit disoriented. It’s always hard to think straight when Ginny kisses him, in his defence, and the way that she’s grinning up at him now says that she knows exactly what’s on his mind.

“Potter’s Army, of course,” Jamie says. “I told the others to meet us in the Defence classroom. Is that fine?”

“Well, if you’ve already told them, then there’s no point me saying no, is it?” Harry says dryly.

“I knew you’d see things my way,” Jamie says. “I’ve got to go, I promised Freddie I’d do something before the meeting… see you both in a bit!” he says.

“Wash your hands before dinner,” Ginny calls out to him, and then, turning to Harry, says, “Hi.”

“You already said that,” Harry says, smiling.

“Bears repeating,” Ginny says, and slips her hand into his. Her hand is small and warm in his, and he holds on tightly. “So. We’ve got some time before the meeting.”

“We do,” Harry agrees.

Ginny looks up at him, and he recognises the blazing look in her eye. “What do you say we make good use of it?” she whispers.

Harry doesn’t have to hesitate at all before he nods. “Lead the way,” he says.

*

Harry and Ginny don’t have to do much at the meeting of the Defence Club — Harry still hates to call it Potter’s Army — since Jamie and Freddie seem to have taken over completely. Harry doesn’t mind that at all; he’s quite happy to sit with Ginny and watch the others.

“Let’s practice Disarming again,” Jamie says, once everyone’s arrived at the classroom. There are the usual people: Jamie, Freddie, Albus, Scorpius, Rose, Lily, Roxanne, Hugo, Lorcan and Lysander, along with Leah Wood and Danielle Jordan.  

“Again? It’s all we did in Defence last week!” Danielle says. “No offence, Professor,” she adds.

“We did Disarming for exactly one day, Danielle,” Harry says, amused.

“Besides, an enemy can’t attack you if they have no wand,” Scorpius says. “Wanna practice with me, Al?”

“Yeah,” Albus says immediately.

“Okay, great. Let’s divide into pairs,” Freddie says. “Before that, though, has anyone seen anything suspicious recently?”

Harry sits up a little straighter. He notices that Lily, right at the back of the classroom, has gone a bit pale, but she doesn’t speak up, only shuffles a bit closer to Hugo and Roxanne. Lorcan, next to her, is frowning, and whispers something to Lysander.

“Well, if something occurs to you, speak up,” Jamie says. “Wanna be my partner, Leah?”

“Oh, go on, then,” Leah says, grinning, and walks up to the front to join Jamie.

“Oh, and–while we’re asking things,” Jamie says once Freddie’s left to team up with Danielle, in a tone of forced nonchalance, “do you want to come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?”

Leah blinks, and then says, “Seriously?”

Neither of them seems to be aware that both Harry and Ginny can hear them. Ginny nudges Harry, who turns to exchange a knowing smile with her.

Jamie shrugs sheepishly. “Might be nice,” he says. “We can go to the Shrieking Shack.”

“No way in hell are we going to the Shrieking Shack for our first date, Potter,” Leah says.

“Is that a yes, then?” Jamie asks.

“It’s a yes to the date. Not to the Shrieking Shack. Do you want to try Disarming me first?” Leah says.

“Alright,” Jamie says, positively glowing with happiness.

“They grow up so fast,” Ginny whispers to Harry, who has to bite back his laughter.

After about an hour, which Harry and Ginny spend walking through the room — Lily seems to have recovered from whatever it is that upset her, but Harry makes a mental note to ask her about it later — Harry clears his throat. “Alright, everyone. We’ve got to end soon, or McGonagall will have my head.”

“Okay,” Freddie says. “You heard Uncle Professor. See you all next week.”

“Shall I walk you back to the common room, Leah?” Jamie says.

“We’re going to the same place,” Leah says, but she grins.

“I’m going to try and catch Lils, see if she wants a chat,” Ginny murmurs to Harry, who nods, grateful that Ginny seems to have noticed something wrong, too.

“I’ll see you back in the room,” he tells her.

He starts to gather his things, but frowns when he notices Albus, lingering in the room even once Scorpius and Rose have left.

“Everything alright, Al?” he asks.

“Yeah, Dad. Only… Do you, er. Do you have a minute? It’s alright if you’re busy,” he adds hastily.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Not busy at all,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Albus closes the door firmly behind him and walks up to him. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just…” he trails off. Harry waits, knowing better than to prompt him. Years of experience with Albus has taught him that it’s better to wait out his silences. “It’s just,” Albus continues after a moment, “it’s a Hogsmeade weekend.”

Harry frowns a little and sits down, waiting for Albus to sit opposite him before he answers. “Yeah. I know. First Hogsmeade weekend of the term, right?”

“Yeah,” Albus says. “Are you going?”

“We are, yeah. Ron and George will be at the shop, so we thought maybe we’d get lunch together…” And, Harry thinks, if lunch just happens to be at the Three Broomsticks, near enough to Madam Rosmerta that he can talk to her, all the better.

“Right,” Albus says. “It’s just… when you were my age, did you go to Hogsmeade? I mean… do you remember your first visit?”

“I do, yeah. I remember it very well. Since I had to sneak in through a passage to Honeydukes,” Harry says dryly. When Albus looks confused, Harry explains. “I didn’t exactly… have permission to visit. The Dursleys didn’t sign the form.”

“The Dursleys? Uncle Dudley’s family?” Albus says.

“Yeah, them. It’s sort of a long story,” Harry says. “They didn’t sign the form — again, long story — so I sort of had to sneak in. Which you shouldn’t do,” he says hastily. 

Albus tilts his head to the side as he mulls it over. “But if you snuck in, then the others couldn’t have known you went, right? So it can’t have counted as a first visit, not properly.”

“No, I suppose not,” Harry agrees. “Why do you ask, Al? Are you nervous about Hogsmeade?”

“No,” Albus says quickly. Very quickly. Quickly enough that Harry knows he’s lying. “Well, I’m not nervous about going, it’s just… can I ask you something? Something else, I mean?” He waits for Harry to nod before continuing. “Did you ever go with someone? Not, like, with someone, but… with someone. With Mum?”

Something clicks in Harry’s mind, and he sits up in his seat. “Al, do you want to ask someone to go to Hogsmeade with you tomorrow?”

Albus doesn’t say anything, but the slight flush to his cheeks and his embarrassed expression tells Harry everything he needs to know.

“You should do it, Al. Anybody’d be lucky to go with you,” he says.

Albus looks even more embarrassed. “Dad,” he says in protest, but a tiny smile spreads across his lips. “Do you really think I should do it?”

“I really do,” Harry says.

“What if–what if they say no?” Albus asks in a small voice.

Harry has to think about it. “If they say no, then… then at least you tried, right? At least you were brave,” he says.

“I’m not a Gryffindor,” Albus says.

“You don’t have to be a Gryffindor to be brave,” Harry counters. “You’re one of the bravest people I know, Albus.”

While James probably would have made a joke about it, all Albus does is Albus smile a little, and then look up at Harry. “Thanks, Dad,” he says softly. He gets to his feet, and then walks around the desk, leaning in and hugging Harry.

“Quick word of advice,” Harry says, patting Albus’s back as he hugs him. “Don’t go to Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop. Terrible place for a date.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Albus says. He pulls back from the hug, taking a deep breath and shoving his hand into the pocket of his robes. “Okay. Alright. Okay. I’m going to do it. I’m going to go right now and do it.” He seems to be trying to convince himself about it, and Harry feels oddly proud.

Harry nods. “You do that, Al,” he says, smiling as he watches Albus leave his classroom.

Back to index

Chapter 9: ix

The next morning, Harry’s awoken by the sound of an owl tapping at the window. It’s early, early enough that the sunlight is too weak to illuminate much at all. He sits up, grabbing his wand and muttering, “Lumos.” Ginny’s still asleep next to him, so he gets up as quietly as he can, going to the window and opening it.

He smiles when he recognises the barn owl, accepting an affectionate peck from her before he takes the letter. By the time he’s Summoned some owl treats and offered her some, and the owl’s flown away, Ginny’s starting to stir in bed.

“Get back to bed, s’cold without you,” she demands.

Harry turns to look at her, walking back to bed and climbing in obligingly. “Teddy’s sent a letter,” he says, settling back against the pillows.

Ginny rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. “Yeah? What does it say?” she asks sleepily.

Harry pauses to press a kiss to the top of her head before he opens the letter. “He says he’ll be in Hogsmeade today, and he wants to meet us. Says he has a surprise for us.”

“Hmm. Knowing Teddy, a surprise could be the best or the worst thing in the world,” Ginny says.

“What do you think it is?” Harry says.

“Mm. Maybe he’s engaged to Vic. Or maybe they’re going to have a baby,” Ginny suggests.

Harry shudders at the thought. “Absolutely not. We’re too young to be grandparents.”

“And Andromeda is definitely too young to be a great-grandma,” Ginny says, grinning. “Oh, well. Whatever it is, I suppose we’ll find out soon.”

Harry doesn’t feel very reassured, but he supposes he’ll find out later today. And speaking of finding out… “Did Lily tell you what was wrong, last night?” he asks Ginny.

Ginny sits up, looking more awake now. “She did. Sort of. Some of the older Slytherins have been bothering her.”

Harry feels a sudden protective anger surge through him. “Really?”

“She wouldn’t tell me what they said,” Ginny says. “Not exactly. But… apparently it had something to do with you. And that’s why she got so worried.”

“Something to do with me?” Harry repeats, a bit confused.

“Well, you can’t be popular with everyone, can you?” Ginny says.

“Yes, but… was it very bad?” Harry asks.

“I wouldn’t take it seriously, if I were you. You know how they talk…”

“Wait. So Lils is upset because a few older Slytherins were… what, insulting me?” Harry says.

Ginny nods. “Like I said, she didn’t tell me exactly, but it seemed to be something like that. Something about the world being better before you were in it. I think she took it personally, on your behalf.”

Harry thinks about Lily, their youngest child, their little girl, upset and worried because of him. He’d wanted to come to Hogwarts to try and make things less unsafe for the students, but he hadn’t thought of anyone bothering his kids because of him. The thought makes him feel like there’s a weight in his stomach, and suddenly he feels terrible, guilty in a way that he’s not used to. “Should I talk to her?” he asks.

Ginny considers. “I don’t know, Harry. You know what she’s like,” she says. “She doesn’t like to admit any weakness. I think the best thing you can do is treat her normally. She’ll tell us if she needs anything.”

“Will she?” Harry asks, with a heavy sigh.

Ginny meets his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. She looks just as worried as he feels.

*

They both set off to Hogsmeade a few hours later, and are greeted on the outskirts of the village by a very enthusiastic Teddy, who seems to be waiting for them. “Hi,” he says. His hair’s black today, and messy, matching Harry’s almost exactly, and he’s wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

“Hey, Teddy,” Harry says, tugging him into a quick hug. “Nice hair.”

“Thanks,” Teddy grins. “Thought I’d match you and Al today. Where is he, by the way?”

“The students left earlier. We wanted to avoid the crowds. I was hoping you’d have seen him, though,” Ginny says.

Teddy shakes his head. “No, I just Apparated here now myself. Why were you hoping I’d see him?’

“Al’s on a date,” Harry explains.

Teddy’s eyes light up. “Really? Oh, we’ve absolutely got to find him, then! Who’s he on a date with?”

“We don’t know,” Ginny says. “And really, we’re not going to snoop to find out, but… If we happen to see who he’s with…”

Teddy exchanges a conspiratorial look with Ginny. “So basically, we’re going to snoop on him?” he asks.

“Exactly,” Ginny says.

“But you know. Subtly,” Harry puts in. “Anyway, what’s your surprise?” he adds, as they start walking again, down the path to the village, and Ted falls into step with them effortlessly.

Teddy’s eyes light up at that. “Oh, I’d forgotten! Guess who’s been assigned to work on the Dementors case with you?”

“Seriously?” Harry asks.

“Well, they didn’t want to let me, since it’s an Auror investigation, but I pointed out that as Dementors are a magical creature, technically, it’s also within the purview of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And that convinced Auror Patil, so she agreed to let me work the case,” Teddy says proudly.

“Well done,” Ginny says, impressed.

“Are you sure you don’t want a career in Magical Law Enforcement?” Harry asks, leaning over to ruffle Teddy’s hair.

Teddy ducks his head, looking delighted. “I’ll consider it,” he says. “I’m not really enjoyed the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures too much, you know.”

“Boss still annoying you?” Harry asks.

“Among other things,” Teddy says, and sighs. “It’s just… the way they talk about werewolves, it’s awful. And there’s not a lot you can get done in that department, not unless you can change the actual laws.”

Harry nods. “That’s why Hermione moved to Magical Law Enforcement, you know. Made it easier to pass through her house-elf legislation.”

“Oh, yeah, Kreacher told me all about that,” Teddy says.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Ginny says, and then draws to a halt outside the branch of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, what was formerly Zonko’s. “I’m going to go in, say hi to George.”

Harry peeks through the window, and grins. “By which you mean, you’re going to go see if Jamie’ll tell you where Albus is?” he says, spotting Jamie inside the shop.

“Maybe,” Ginny says, and winks at them. “And maybe I’ll check on his date, too.”

“He’s on a date, too?” Teddy asks, grinning. “So he finally asked Leah out?”

“He did,” Harry confirms.

“Do you think snooping on our children makes us bad parents?” Ginny wonders.

Harry shrugs. “Worrying about that has never stopped us before, has it?”

Ginny considers it, and then nods. “Fair point. I’ll meet you for lunch at the Three Broomsticks, yeah? I’ll bring Ron and George,” she says, and kisses Harry’s cheek and then Teddy’s before she ducks into the shop.

“Where are we going?” Teddy asks Harry, and Harry suddenly is reminded of taking Teddy to Diagon Alley when he was younger, how eager Teddy would always be to go look at everything, how he’d always ask Where are we going next, Harry?

“Come on,” Harry tells him. “I wanted a word with Rosmerta. You can come, since you’re on the case now.”

Teddy nods easily, falling back into step next to Harry as they walk to the Three Broomsticks. “Do you think she’ll tell us anything new?”

“I don’t know,” Harry has to admit. “I’ve got no idea.”

“I hope she does,” Teddy says.

“Me too, Teddy. Me, too.”

*

“So,” Harry says, “have you seen anything else suspicious?” He sits back down at the table, setting down two Butterbeers for them. He and Teddy have gotten a table near the back, where the others can join them for lunch soon. Their interview with Rosmerta hadn’t gone well at all. She’d been willing to help but had told them that she hadn’t seen anything suspicious, not recently, and not connected to the Dementor attack. She’d promised to be on the lookout, though, which is about the best they could’ve hope for, Harry thinks.

“Connected to the Dementors, you mean?” Teddy asks.

“Not necessarily,” Harry says. “Just anything suspicious. We don’t know what’s connected to the Dementors right now. Any rise in sudden Dark activity could be connected.”

Teddy hesitates, and then takes out a Chocolate Frog card, setting it down on the table and sliding it over to him. Harry looks down at the picture of Albus Dumbledore, recognising the charm on it, and taps it with his wand. The picture and text disappear; in its place is a picture of what looks to be some graffiti on a wall. Harry’s eyes widen when he sees the picture; his breath seems to catch in his throat when he leans in to get a better look.

“Where was this?” Harry asks.

“Outside the Leaky Cauldron,” Teddy says.

“And no one else saw it? No one reported it?”

“Tom was cleaning it up when I passed by,” Teddy says. “I don’t think he thought it was suspicious.”

Harry looks at the picture again, unable to believe it.

The picture looks, at first glance, to be a Dark Mark. A skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth. It’s modified, though: the skull has a lightning scar, right on its forehead, and is wearing glasses. A lightning scar that Harry recognises very well. Familiar round glasses. Beneath it are words: The Real Darkness, emblazoned proudly beneath the drawing.  

“I don’t think it’s connected to anything too Dark,” Teddy says, looking at Harry nervously. “I just think, you know. It’s one of those lunatics who reads Rita Skeeter… you’ve gotten hate mail before, haven’t you?”

Harry taps the card with his wand again, relieved when the picture disappears, and he sees the placid face of Albus Dumbledore once more.

“It may be hate mail. May be something more, though,” he says quietly. “Do you mind if I keep this?”

“Of course. I brought it to show you. What do you think this means?” Teddy asks.

“What do you think what means?” says a voice, and Harry looks up from the card to see Ron, who’s standing with George and Ginny.

“Long story,” Harry says. Ginny sits herself down next to Harry, and Ron and George sit on Teddy’s side of the table.

“Young Teddy,” George says, throwing his arm around his shoulders. “What sort of mischief have you been getting into?”

“Nothing, because I haven’t visited your shop yet,” Teddy says. “Are you all out of Headless Hats? I wanted one.”

“I’m sure Bill would disapprove of me selling you products,” George says.

“He disapproves of all things Teddy these days,” Ginny puts in. “He’s overprotective of Vic. Turns out it’s a Weasley problem, being overprotective.”

“What’re you looking at me for?” Ron says, but he grins. “So, tell us the long story, then, go on.”

Harry passes the card over to Ron and George. Teddy taps it with his wand for them, and they lean in to see the picture, Ginny leaning over from opposite them.

“Merlin,” Ginny whispers.

“That can’t be good,” Ron says, sounding unusually serious.

“Then again,” George says, “We’re used to people saying that kind of thing about you, remember? We’re talking about the Chosen One, who was Heir of Slytherin when he was twelve years old.”

“This could just be someone who’s mad that you arrested them, or something,” Ginny says. “We don’t know if it’s connected to all of this.”

“We don’t,” Harry answers, taking the card back and putting it away in his pocket. “It’s worth investigating, though. People don’t throw around pictures of the Dark Mark anymore. Even if it looks different.”

“If it looks like a specsy git with a scar now, you mean?” George asks innocently.

“The Real Darkness. Merlin, they’re a bit dramatic, aren’t they?” Ron says, shaking his head.

“Not like Voldemort wasn’t dramatic himself,” Ginny points out, snorting. “Lord Voldemort. Ridiculous.”

“I think we need a drink. Lots of drinks,” George says, getting to his feet.

Harry watches George walk to the counter absentmindedly; as he does, he catches a movement at the entrance. Albus walks into the Three Broomsticks. Following him in is Scorpius, who’s saying something to Albus that’s making him smile.

“I thought you said Al was on a date,” Teddy says, following Harry’s gaze.

Harry watches as Scorpius slips his hand into Al’s. Both of their cheeks look flushed, and when Albus turns and spots them in the back, he drops Scorpius’s hand immediately, blushing even more and suddenly looking very embarrassing.

“Oh, my god. I think he is,” Ginny whispers. “I think that is his date.”

“I think so,” Harry agrees and then, as neutrally as he can, raises a hand and waves at Albus before he makes a deliberate show of looking away.

“You mean–Albus and Scorpius?” Ron says, and then sighs. “Great. Someone’s out to get you — again — and this means we’re never going to get rid of Draco Malfoy at family gatherings. Not our best day, is it?”

“I don’t know, I think it’s cute,” Ginny says. “They’ve always been attached at the hip.”

Harry thinks about when he was thirteen, worried about Sirius Black and Voldemort, and then looks at Albus, who’s making his way to a table on the other side of the pub from them, with Scorpius in tow. He decides then, to make sure Albus, or James or Lily, ever have to go through what he did. He’s going to do everything in his power to make sure of it.

Back to index

Chapter 10: x.

Author's Notes: as always, let me know what you think! i'd also love to know your theories for what's going to happen next ;)

On Mondays, Harry has the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw third years in the morning, just before the break. He’s a bit distracted through class, still thinking about the graffiti Teddy found, and what it all could mean. He’s spent the last two days thinking about it, and he still doesn’t know what it could mean. There’s no proof that the Dementor attacks and the graffiti are connected, but he has a feeling that they are.

“Alright, everyone,” he announces at the end of the class, forcing himself to pay attention to the class and not let his mind wander into the investigation too much. “Great work today. For homework, practice the Shield Charm, yeah? And Disarming, too, in case you think you need it. See you next class.”

The class starts to file out. Harry opens up his desk drawer, takes out a stack of parchment. He’s just about to tap it with his wand when he notices that Albus and Scorpius are lingering back. Albus says something to Rose, who nods and then walks out, and then Albus and Scorpius walk up to the desk. He offers them a tired smile. “Everything alright, you two?” he asks.

Both of them look worried; Albus, in particular, looks more stressed out than Harry’s ever seen him.

“Is this about Hogsmeade?” Harry says.

“No, Mr. Potter, we–” Scorpius starts to say.

“Because if it is, it’s really no problem — I mean, you’re both thirteen, of course you’ll want to date–”

“Dad, we–”

“It’s no different from if Jamie wanted to date, or Lily–although Lily’s far too young, far too young–”

“Dad–”

“And this doesn’t change anything for us, in case you were worried, Al, and your mum feels the same way, and you’re still part of the family, Scorpius–”

“Thanks, Mr. Potter, but–”

“And it makes no difference that you’re dating a boy, and I’m sorry if we made things awkward, but–”

“Dad!” Albus says, basically yelling at this point. His cheeks are flaming red. “This isn’t about the date!”

Harry falls silent, feeling a bit hot around the ears himself. “Oh. Er. Right,” he says.

“It was very nice of you, though, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius, ever the peacemaker, says.

“I mean it,” Harry says.

“Thank you,” Scorpius says, and beams at him.

“Yeah, it was nice, Dad. But… It was just that… we had to tell you something else,” Albus says.

“Oh,” Harry says, again. “Alright. What is it, then?”

“Yesterday, we went to the library. With Rose and her friends. But they left, and then me and Scorp sort of, er, hung back a bit,” Albus says. “And, um, we heard a couple of people talking.”

“Slytherins,” Scorpius puts in. “Older ones. Sixth or seventh years.”

“Go on,” Harry says. He’s already got a bad feeling about this.

“Talking about you, Dad,” Albus says, his brow knitting together in worry. “They said… that you don’t care about the trail of destruction you left behind. That you were the most dangerous, and that you didn’t care about the people you’re meant to have saved, and that you had it coming.”

“It didn’t make much sense, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius says.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, and sighs. “Do you know who it was?” he asks.

Albus frowns. “I don’t know. Two girls. I don’t know they are. They didn’t really seem like very”  

“They seemed familiar to me,” Scorpius admits. “Maybe my dad would know?”

Harry freezes, and opens his eyes, looking at Scorpius for a long second. “That’s it,” he says.

“That’s what?” Scorpius says, confused.

“Scorpius, you’re a genius,” Harry says, getting to his feet. It’s impossible to know more about this, about what’s happening and whether it’s connected to the Dementors — and the graffiti — without going right to the source. “Thank you both. Really.”

“Um. You’re welcome,” Albus says.  

“Both of you, let me know if you hear anything else, okay?” Harry says, picking up his wand and Summoning a folder from the drawer of his desk. “And if you can’t find me, then… tell Ginny. Okay?”

“Okay,” Albus says. “Are you okay, Dad?”

“No,” Harry says, and stops to press a kiss to the top of Albus’s head. “But I will be. Thanks, Al.”

*

It’s been years — decades, really — and Harry still hates Malfoy Manor. Just being back here sends shivers down his spine, even though he’s been here several times — most recently, to pick up Scorpius at the beginning of the summer holidays.

“Please state your name and purpose,” the gate tells him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Harry Potter,” Harry says. There’s a pause, and then the gate swings open. He walks right up to the front door, ignoring the plants and birds — was that a peacock? — on the way, and knocks. When no one answers, he knocks again, louder this time.

After a moment, the door open, and a disgruntled Malfoy stands in front of him. “Was it necessary to bang on the door?” he demands. “You Potters, I swear, no patience at all… How Albus got to be so decent, I have no idea…”

Harry, who was very much hoping it’d be Astoria home and not Malfoy, sighs. “Where’s Astoria?” he asks.

“She’s at Mungo’s. Working. Aren’t you meant to be doing that, too?” Malfoy says pointedly.

“You’re one to talk,” Harry points out, and then walks in, not waiting for an invitation.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Malfoy asks, closing the door behind them.

“I needed to talk to you,” Harry says.

Malfoy frowns suddenly. “Is this about Scorpius? Is he alright?” he demands. “I know trouble tends to follow you around wherever you go, but I swear to Merlin, if you’ve gotten Scorpius hurt–” Harry recognises the protective strain in Malfoy’s voice, which is why he’s quick to reassure him.

“Scorpius is fine,” Harry says. “I just saw him and Al about ten minutes ago. He’s not in danger, I promise.”

Malfoy relaxes a little at that. “You can’t blame me for checking. I heard about the Dementors.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Harry says.

Malfoy looks at him, and then sighs. “Alright, I suppose you’d better come in,” he mutters. He leads Harry into a small room off the living room, what seems to be some sort of study. Harry thinks about everything that’s happened in the living room, and he’s deeply grateful not to be there right now.

He sits down on the armchair Malfoy gestures to, almost annoyed by how comfortable it is.

“So. The Dementors?” Malfoy says, sitting down opposite him. “Why do you want to talk to me about them?”

“Not them, exactly,” Harry says, and then hesitates, thinking of the best possible way to frame what he has to ask him. “How much do you keep in touch with your old mates?”

Malfoy frowns, but humours him. “A few. What is this about?” he asks.

“I have… a theory,” Harry says. “About the Dementors. About who’s sending them. But I need…” he hesitates again. The words seem to be stuck in his throat. “I need your help,” he finally says.

Malfoy’s eyebrows raise, until they’ve practically disappeared into his receding hairline. “With what?” he says.

“How many of them have children?” Harry asks. “Children who are at Hogwarts, right now?”

“You think they sent the Dementors?” Malfoy says, sounding disbelieving.

“No,” Harry says, but doesn’t offer up any other explanation. He can’t, not until he knows for sure if he’s right or not.

“Well… I know Goyle had a son,” Malfoy says slowly. “And Avery had a couple of children. So did Zabini and Pansy. I’m not sure about the others.”

“Slytherin?” Harry asks.

Malfoy frowns. “I think Zabini and Pansy’s daughter is in Slytherin. And Goyle’s son.”

“Alright,” Harry says, and then waves his wand. A scroll of parchment and quill appear in front of him, and he writes down Goyle and Avery’s names. “I’ll check about the others. One last thing, though,” he says.

“What is it?”

“Goyle and Avery and the others… how do they feel about me?” Harry asks.

Malfoy, for the first time this entire meeting, looks amused. “They hate you. Course they do, Potter, you know that. You’re the one who put half of them in prison.”

“I think that was the Wizengamot’s decision, not mine,” Harry says.

“That’s not how they see it,” Malfoy says.

“How do they see it?” Harry asks. He leans back in his seat, making sure to seem as casual as possible. This is what he really wants to know, but he doesn’t want to betray his eagerness.

“Well… they think it was better for him back when the Dark Lord–”

“Voldemort,” Harry corrects.

Malfoy flinches at the name. “Back when he was around. And they blame you for him not being there.”

Harry nods slowly. He thought as much, but it’s good to have it confirmed. He gets to his feet, Vanishing the parchment and quill. “Alright. Thanks, Malfoy. One last thing… the next time one of them invites you over or something, will you tell me if you notice anything suspicious? Anything at all, even if it seems insignificant.”

“I didn’t know I had to keep you updated with my social life, Potter,” Malfoy says.

Harry frowns. “It’s important. Trust me. I need to know, if I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Malfoy stands up, too, and looks at Harry, serious in a way that Harry’s not used to. “Do I have your word that you’ll do everything in your power to keep Scorpius safe?” he asks quietly.

Harry nods. He doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course,” he says. “We’ll all look out for him. I won’t let anything happen, not if I can control it.”

“Good,” Malfoy says. “Then you have my word. I’ll tell you if I see anything suspicious.”

“Good,” Harry echoes. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

*

He Apparates back to Hogwarts, right outside the gate. He walks in, deep in thought, and then pauses by the Entrance Hall. He turns around, surveys the room. He seems to be the only person here, but he hears a rustle to his left; when he turns around, he sees only a blank stretch of wall.

“I know you’re there,” he tells the empty wall.

There’s a pause and then Jamie reveals himself, folding up the silvery Invisibility Cloak and looking sheepish.

“You know when I gave you that Cloak, I didn’t think you’d use it against me,” Harry says, amused.

Jamie shrugs, stowing the Cloak away in a pocket of his robes. “Where were you, anyway?” he asks, instead of providing any explanation as to why it is that he’s been waiting for Harry here. “I know you weren’t at Hogwarts.”

“How do you know that?” Harry says. “Oh. The Marauder’s Map?”

“Freddie lent it to me,” Jamie says, grinning. “So where were you, Dad?”

“At Draco Malfoy’s house, if you’d believe it,” Harry says.

“Scorp’s dad? What for?”

Harry takes a moment to reflect on when Malfoy’s claim to fame became ‘Scorpius’s dad’. “It’s… a long story,” he finally says.

“Does it have to do with the Dementors?” Jamie asks.

“Yes,” Harry says, and then, “Sort of. I hope so, anyway.”

“Okay,” Jamie says, biting down on his lip a little. He looks oddly unsure, and Harry wraps his arm around his shoulders, unable to help it. Instead of throwing his arm off, though, Jamie leans into the touch — just for a second, but enough to tell Harry that he’s worried about something.

“What’s going on, Jamie?” he asks.  

“Freddie says you’re going to do Boggarts with us this week,” Jamie says.

“That was the plan, yeah,” Harry says.

Jamie looks up at Harry. “I don’t want to,” he says.

Harry frowns, and waits. He doesn’t need to ask him anything, because Jamie starts speaking again in less than a minute.

“Not in front of everyone. Not for the first time. I know what mine will be, and I…” Jamie trails off.

Harry looks down at his oldest son, sees the way his brow is furrowed with worry, the way he seems to be doing his best to hide how upset he is, and makes a snap decision. “There’s a Boggart in the staff room. Want to come to the classroom with me? We can give it a go right now.”

“Right now?” Jamie repeat.

Harry nods, checking his watch. “We’ve got some time.”

“Together?” Jamie asks.

“Together,” Harry confirms, squeezing Jamie before he lets go.

“Then… okay,” Jamie says, visibly relaxing. “That’s… that’s good, yeah. Let’s go,” he says.

He gives Harry a smile, a hint of his usual bravado back in place, and Harry reluctantly lets go of him before they start walking up to the Defence classroom together. He’d been looking forward to finding Ginny, telling her about Malfoy and everything else, maybe trying to see if one of the house-elves would bring them up dinner in their rooms, but it looks like he’s got to battle a Boggart first.

*

Back to index

Chapter 11: xi.

Author's Notes: Harry and Jamie face Jamie's Boggart together. Lily brings them shocking news.

Harry’s classroom is completely empty, quiet except for a rattle coming from a cupboard in the back. Harry closes the door behind them. The last thing they need is an audience for this.

“Is that it?” Jamie asks, eyeing the cupboard warily. “The Boggart?”

“Yes. McGonagall sent it over, apparently it got into a cupboard in the Headmistress’s office somehow,” Harry says.

Jamie nods, and takes a deep breath. He’s holding his wand tightly, tight enough that his knuckles have gone pale with the force of it.

Harry wants to ask him what he’s expecting to see. He doesn’t know if he wants to know or not. If it’s making Jamie this upset, then it’s got to be something big, something truly terrifying. Instead of asking him, he says, “So. What do you know about Boggarts?”

“They take the form of the thing you’re the most scared of,” Jamie says. “And they rattle around in cupboards and things. I remember the one that you and Mum found in the Burrow last year. Proper little shits, really.”

“Language,” Harry says, but there’s no bite in his words. “Well, you’re right. And you get rid of them by laughing at them. It’s not real, see. You have to remember that. No matter what it looks like, it’s not real. So you look at it, and then you find a way to change it into something worth laughing at. I reckon you’ll be good at that,” he adds mildly.

“Okay,” Jamie says. He seems to steel himself visibly.

Harry can’t help himself then. “What do you think it’ll be?” he asks.

Jamie looks at Harry. “I don’t want to say,” he says, setting his jaw in a show of stubbornness. “Not until I know if I’m right or not. Just… promise me you’ll be here the whole time?”

“I promise,” Harry says without hesitation. He doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t need any other details.

“Okay. Alright. Then… I’m ready,” Jamie says.

Harry glances at Jamie. He looks as ready as he’ll ever be, which is why Harry points his wand at the cupboard in the back to unlock it.

The door swings open.

At first, there’s nothing, nothing at all, and then, suddenly–

Everything gets colder.

They’re indoors, but the entire room seems to get darker. Foggy, almost.

And then, all of a sudden, Harry knows what’s going to emerge from the cupboard before it does.

A tall, cloaked figure emerges, floating off the ground, hooded and covered from head to toe. A Dementor, undeniably, unmistakeably so. Harry knows it’s a Boggart, logically, but he can’t stop the shiver that runs down his spine. A claw-like hand emerges from beneath the cloak, and the Dementor — the Boggart — takes in a deep, rattling breath.

Harry thinks it’s his Boggart at first, but when he turns to look at Jamie, he’s pale and shaking all over. Harry can’t say that he blames him. He feels much the same. He can’t explain how, but he just knows that this is Jamie’s Boggart, and not his. “I’m here, Jamie,” he promises.

“Expecto Patronum,” Jamie chokes out. A silver mist emerges from his wand, not quite corporeal.

“No–Jamie, it’s not real,” Harry says. He has to force the words out. “It’s not a Dementor. Remember that. It can’t hurt you, not if you laugh at it.”

Jamie screws his eyes shut. “I–Dad,” he says, weakly.

“It’s not real,” Harry repeats.

Jamie opens his eyes and focuses on the Boggart. “R-riddikulus,” he says. Nothing happens. The Boggart floats a bit closer, and Jamie shudders.

“Try again,” Harry says.

“Riddikulus,” Jamie repeats. His voice is stronger this time.

The Boggart trips over its cloak, and then falls to the ground, hitting the ground head-first with a splat that is very, very satisfying.

A sudden, genuine laugh escapes Harry. After a second, Jamie joins him, leaning into Harry’s side as he laughs. The cold starts to recede, and then Harry can’t seem to stop laughing. His ribs ache with the force of it, and when he looks up, the Boggart is unsure, flickering between a Dementor, a clown, and — of all things — a snake on rollerblades. He directs it back into the cupboard with his wand, locking the door firmly before it has the chance to escape.

“That was fucking amazing, Jamie,” he says.

Jamie looks at him, a wide grin plastered onto his face. His face bright with laughter, and Harry feels warmer than he has all day. “Come on, Dad,” he says. “Language.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He points his wand at his desk, and two cups of tea and a bar of chocolate appear. “Here. It’ll help,” he says, breaking off the chocolate and handing Jamie a generous slab.

“I thought Conjuring food was one of the exceptions of Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” Jamie says, taking a bite of it.

“I didn’t Conjure it, it’s in our rooms upstairs,” Harry says, and hands Jamie his cup of tea. He waits for Jamie to take a sip before he speaks again. “Is that what you thought it would be?” he asks tentatively. “The Boggart, I mean. Did you think it would take that form?”

Jamie takes a sip of tea. “Yes,” he says quietly. “It’s just… on the train, when those Dementors arrived… I felt like I’d never be happy again. Not ever.”

“That’s what they do,” Harry agrees. “And I agree with you. They’re terrifying. Which is why it’s my Boggart, too.”

Jamie blinks at him, surprised. “Seriously?” If Harry isn’t mistaken, he looks quite happy at that, and Harry has to force back the urge to tug Jamie into a hug right then and there.

“Seriously,” he says instead. “It’s been the form any Boggart takes with me, ever since I was thirteen. Lupin–Remus Lupin, Ted’s dad–he was the one who taught me how to deal with them.”

“Boggarts or Dementors?”

“Both,” Harry says. “When I told him about my Boggart being a Dementor, he said that it meant the thing I feared most was fear, itself.”

“And is that true for me?” Jamie asks.

Harry looks at Jamie, unable to hold back a small smile. “Yes, it is,” he says.

“So how did you learn to get over it?” Jamie asks. “The fear. How did you get past it?”

Harry shrugs. “The same way you did, Jamie. My Boggart form hasn’t changed, and I still hate Dementors. Hate the hell out of those bloody things. But you learn to deal with it. You managed a Patronus on the train, didn’t you? And you managed the Boggart now.”

Jamie nods proudly. “I did,” he says.

Harry gets to his feet, taking the last sip of his tea. “And you’ll manage it again, now.”

Jamie looks a bit confused. “Again?”

“I’m technically your Defence teacher, Jamie,” Harry reminds him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t make you try again?”

“I think I’ve got the hang of Riddikulus, Dad,” Jamie says.

“Not that,” Harry says. “The Patronus. Practice makes it easier, you know. And I have plenty more chocolate. Do you think you can handle giving it another go?” he asks.

Jamie gets to his feet. “Yeah. I can. I’m ready,” he says. “Let’s do it again.”

*

The first time Jamie faced the Boggart, it’d felt just like it did on the train. A thick fog of fear had enveloped his brain, and it’d been impossible to even think through it. It had been so convincing, is the thing. He’d suddenly felt everything he felt on the Hogwarts Express, when he’d made the decision to go investigate what was happening, when he’d had to battle Dementors next to his dad, when he’d felt as if he’d never be happy again, not ever in his life. It took everything he had to force the Boggart into tripping, and falling, and losing its power on him, but he hadn’t managed a Patronus. It’s why he hadn’t argued with his dad about needing the practice. The last thing he needs is to be unprepared if — when — he’s faced with Dementors again. He just hopes like hell that the second time will be somewhat easier.

In what seems like seconds, the Boggart emerges from the cupboard, and Jamie feels, more than sees, his father step a bit closer to his side. It’s just as convincing as it was last time. Hooded, approaching them, and Jamie just knows that he won’t get to it in time, he won’t be able to produce a Patronus, that he’ll be here forever, that the Dementor will get to him —

He squeezes his eyes shut, and focuses. He thinks of the first time he rode a broomstick with his mum, of getting his Hogwarts letter, of finding out his Patronus is the same as his dad’s, and he says, “Expecto Patronum.”

He opens his eyes. He hasn’t managed to produce anything but silvery wisps — again with the damned mist, he thinks — but it does seem a bit more solid than last time. Or maybe it’s just wistful thinking.

“Focus, Jamie,” he hears his dad murmuring next to him.

The Dementor — damn it, no, the Boggart, the Boggart — moves a bit closer to him, and he shivers. It feels like every hair on the back of his neck is standing up with fear, but he looks the Boggart dead in the eye, points his wand, and says it again. He thinks of the memory of actually producing the Patronus on the train, the feeling of seeing his silvery stag stand proudly next to his father’s and says it again.

“Expecto Patronum.”

This time he’s successful. A stag emerges from the tip of his wand, bright and warm and incredible, and the Boggart moves back.

He barely notices his father directing the Boggart back into the cupboard, too busy grinning up at his Patronus. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of how it looks. It’s the most reassuring sight in the world, he thinks. It’s only once it’s fully faded that he turns to look at his dad, who’s beaming proudly at him and offering more chocolate. “That was great, Jamie,” he says, and Jamie thinks that his Patronus is maybe the second most reassuring sight in the world, right after his dad smiling at him like that.

He accepts the chocolate, takes a bite of it. It sends warm through him, and he already feels much better. “I’m ready,” he says, once he’s swallowed most of it. “Let’s try it again, Dad. I’ll do it better this time.”

*

After the fourth attempt, Harry decides to stop.

“What? Why, I can do more!” Jamie protests, when Harry tells him as much.

Harry smiles. The last hour, Jamie’s only been growing more determined. He’s gotten quick with his Patronus, quick enough that Harry is reassured that he’ll be able to take care of himself if he’s ever faced with a Dementor again — but Harry hopes he won’t be. He’s going to do everything in his power to make sure he isn’t in that situation again. But he knows, from his own Hogwarts days and all these years in the Auror department, that it’s better to be prepared, just in case. And he knows Jamie’s prepared now. He’s convinced of it.

“Not today,” Harry answers Jamie. “It’s not easy work, battling Dementors four times.”

“It wasn’t a real Dementor,” Jamie argues.

“I know,” Harry says gently. “But you felt like it was, didn’t you?”

Jamie slowly nods. “I did,” he admits. “I mean… I knew it wasn’t real, but… Merlin, it felt just as awful each time. Except it got a bit better, because I got better at the Patronus, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Harry says, amused.

“Do you think if I become an Animagus, I’ll be a stag? It’d match my Patronus,” Jamie muses. “And your dad. It’d match him too, wouldn’t it? And I bet it’d proper impress Leah, too.”

Harry’s smile fades, and he feels suddenly alarmed. “Jamie. Please don’t become an Animagus,” he says.

“Okay,” Jamie says easily, but his smile does nothing to convince him that he plans to listen to Harry at all — but then again, Harry thinks dryly, what’s new about that?

Before either of them can say anything else, the door to the classroom bangs open. Harry turns to look at the door, raising his wand immediately. He lowers it when he sees who it is.

“What are you doing here, Lily?” he asks, immediately moving closer to the door. He can hear Jamie next to him, both of them rushing because of the state Lily’s in.

Lily’s gone pale, and her face is covered in tear tracks. She’s crying even now, and her eyes are wide, and she throws herself into Harry’s arms. “Dad! You’ve got to come, please, you’ve got to come!” she wails. She sounds frantic.

Harry wraps his arms around Lily immediately. “What is it, Lils? What happened?” he asks, holding her tightly in his arms.

“It’s–it’s Scorpius,” Lily sobs. “He’s–he’s–” she cuts herself off with a sob.

“What happened to Scorpius?” Jamie demands. “Where is he?”

Lily takes in a deep, shuddering breath before she speaks. “He’s on–on the fourth floor. Al’s with him now, and Mum–Mum said to get you, Dad. He’s hurt,” she says, her breath hitching in her throat at the admission. “Someone hurt him. It’s bad. Really bad. You’ve got to come, right now.”

Back to index

Chapter 12: xii.

Author's Notes: The events leading up to and immediately following an unexpected attack, from the perspectives of the Potter children.

**

this chapter is a bit experimental, so i would really really appreciate all of your feedback!
what did you think of the potter kids' perspectives? let me know!

Lily

It all happens so suddenly.

It starts in the evening. It’s a nice day outside, so she and Lorcan had been working on their homework outside with Lysander, Roxanne, and Hugo. Right now, she’s walking back to the Slytherin common room with Lorcan, talking to him about their Transfiguration homework — she’d managed to transform her matchstick into a needle before anyone else in their year, even the Ravenclaws, and she’s very proud of that.

Lorcan’s the only one who understands how proud she is about it. When she told Hugo and Roxanne about it, they assumed she was just showing off, the way Rosie would. Lysander was confused when she told him, and told her that there’s no point of competition, when they’re all learning at their own pace. But when she told Lorcan, he’d beamed and said, “That’s so cool, Lily!”

She’s the youngest, so she’s used to everyone already having done everything before her. There’s Jamie, who’s so good at Defence and Quidditch and can make everyone laugh all the time. And then Albus, who might be the smartest person she’s ever met. And even Scorpius — who she thinks of as a brother at this point — who’s kind, enough to make everyone trust him immediately. And of course, Mum and Dad. Her mum, who’s a Quidditch superstar, and who’s maybe the coolest person ever. And her dad, who’s famous. She’d been determined to make her mark, when she got to Hogwarts. She was going to stand out, she was sure of it. She’d prove to everyone that she’s just as good as everyone around her.

Ambition, the Sorting Hat had called it. You have ambition, I can see that. Enough to put you in Slytherin. Of course, your father and siblings never wanted to be in Slytherin, so it’s your choice.

Lily set her jaw stubbornly, when she was being sorted, and had thought — as loudly as she could, so the Sorting Hat could hear her — you can put me wherever you want. I’m going to do my best, no matter where you put me.

“It’s so cool, Lorcan,” she tells Lorcan now.

“It is. McGonagall loves you already,” Lorcan says. “She gave you five points already, so all of Slytherin’s going to love you.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but she matches Lorcan’s grin with one of her own. “I’m going to go say hi to my mum before dinner,” she tells Lorcan.

“Which means you’re going to try and find out where your dad went off to today?” Lorcan says.

“Maybe,” Lily says innocently. “I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Lorcan agrees. “I’m going to try and sneak into the Ravenclaw room again.”

“Good luck,” Lily says, laughing.

Her parents’ rooms are on the third floor, but when she’s on the staircase, she hears a scream from the fourth floor, a familiar-sounding scream. She doesn’t hesitate for a second before she runs up the stairs.

She doesn’t have to wait too long to see what it is: Albus, Scorpius and Rose are on the floor, by an empty classroom, and no one else is on the corridor

Albus and Rose are both blinking, disoriented, and Scorpius is lying on the ground — he was the source of the scream, Lily realises with a sinking heart. His eyes are closed, and he’s twitching weakly.

“What happened?” she demands, more scared than she’s ever been before.

“Lils–get Dad,” Albus says. His voice is weak, and he leans back against the wall, slowly moving Scorpius’s head into his lap. Scorpius is bleeding — there are several gashes in his robes, and he looks even paler than usual.

“Al,” he says. It comes out like a whimper.

“I’m here, Scorp,” Albus promises, looking up at Lily. His eyes are wide, and desperate. “Lily! You’ve got to hurry, please. Get Dad!”

“I don’t–I don’t know where he is,” Lily stammers.

Rose gets to her feet. “I’ll help you,” she says, and then leans over, steadying her hand on the wall before she’s throwing up on the ground. Lily steps back automatically. “I’ll go check his and Aunt Gin’s rooms. I’ll get Aunt Gin, too. Lily, you go to his classroom, okay?” she continues without a pause after she’s finished throwing up. “And, um. Evanesco.” The sick on the ground disappears. “Let’s go, Lily, come on!”

For once, Lily’s grateful for Rose’s bossiness. “Okay,” she says.

“And, Lils,” Albus says. His voice is starting to sound weak, too.

“Yeah?” Lily says, turning to look at Albus.

“Hurry,” Albus chokes out. “Please.”

*

Albus

It starts innocently enough, with Scorpius wondering, “Do you think every wizard’s Animagus form is the same as their Patronus?” They’ve finished their classes for the day, and lunch, and have spent the last few hours sprawled around on armchairs in the Ravenclaw common room, doing their homework. Well, pretending to their homework — Albus is absorbed in a book of Muggle poetry his granddad gifted him for Christmas last year, Scorpius is reading a copy of yesterday’s Evening Prophet that someone left in the room, and Rosie’s doodling on a bit of parchment.

“Probably,” Rosie says. “I mean, Uncle Harry’s dad was a stag, wasn’t he? And so was his Patronus.”

“But just because it’s true about my granddad doesn’t mean it’s true about everyone, though,” Albus puts in. “Surely there’s got to be some evidence about it.”

“We could ask Mr. Potter,” Scorpius says. “He’s so cool, he’d tell us if we asked.”

Albus and Rose roll their eyes in unison. “You’ve got to stop calling him cool, Scorp,” Albus says, but he can’t help the fond smile. It’s impossible not to be fond of Scorpius, in his opinion.

“Yeah, doesn’t that violate some sort of boyfriend rule?” Rosie wonders. “It’d be like Al thinking Draco Malfoy’s cool.”

“Mr. Malfoy is pretty cool. We get on,” Albus points out. He determinedly does not blush when Rosie calls Scorp his boyfriend, but he has to admit that he loves the sound of that. When he meets Scorpius’s eyes, his ears feel warm, but Scorpius is grinning unabashedly at him.

“And I like Mr. Potter. And Mrs. Potter, too,” Scorpius says. He leans across and takes Albus’s hand, giving it a little squeeze before he lets go. “And your parents are cool too, Rosie,” he adds.

“Yes, well,” Rosie says. “I still don’t think Uncle Harry would know much about Animagus forms and their correlation with Patronuses.”

“He knows a lot about Patronuses,” Albus says loyally.

“Don’t Animagi have to register at the Ministry?” Scorpius says, sitting up suddenly. “I’m sure we could find records of it.”

“You’re right!” Rosie says. “We could go check, I bet there are record in the library.”

“Would there be records of Patronus forms, too?” Albus wonders. He feels excited, the way he feels whenever he, Rose, and Scorp decide to work on a research project that has nothing to do with schoolwork at all. It’s a misconception, he’s learned, that all Ravenclaws are swots. He enjoys schoolwork, to be fair, but he also just enjoys learning in general, and most of the time, homework gets in the way of finding out something truly cool.

“We could check,” Rosie says. She’s already beginning to gather her things together. Albus and Scorpius are quick to join her.

“We should split up,” Scorpius is saying as they walk down to the fourth floor, to the library. “I’ll look at Ministry records, and Rose, you can look for Patronuses, and–”

He stops abruptly, with a little gasp. It’s gone dark, suddenly. Completely dark — unnaturally dark. Albus feels Scorpius’s hand slip into his, and he holds it tightly.

“Lumos,” says Rosie’s uncertain voice, but her wand doesn’t light up. That’s the first sign something’s wrong, Albus thinks: Rose’s spells always, always work.

“That won’t help you, idiot,” says a jeering voice, coming from somewhere behind them.

“Traitor,” says another voice, just as hostile sounding. Albus doesn’t like the sound of this, not one bit.

And then, in what seems like a second, the world explodes.

Something, a spell of some kind, hits Albus in the back, and he falls onto his knees, suddenly wracked in pain all over. It’s the worst thing he’s ever felt. The voices behind them seem to be calling out spells, but he can’t make out what they are; it’s impossible to focus on anything with the way his insides have seized up in pain.

Next to him, Scorpius screams, louder and more pained than he ever imagined Scorpius could sound, and he was wrong, definitely wrong, because this, Scorpius’s scream, is the worst thing he’s ever felt.

The darkness lasts a few minutes. The longest few minutes of his life. He grabs Scorpius’s hand, and when the light returns to the corridors, he turns to look at the others.

“What–what was that?” Rosie gasps out. She’s on the floor, like they are, leaning against the wall and panting. “I think someone–I think we were just attacked!”

“Seems like it,” Albus says. “Scorp–are you alright?”

Scorpius shakes his head, slumping against the wall. He’s bleeding all over, covered in multiple gashes, and looks weak. “Not alright,” he mumbles. “Not alright at all, Al.”

He holds Scorpius’s hand, and Scorpius closes his eyes, growing weaker by the second.

And then, like a miracle, Lily arrives, because she’s always had the best timing. Albus is barely aware of what she looks like, or Rose; all his worry is with Scorpius, and he barely looks away from him even as he speaks to Lily, begs her to get his dad, because he’ll know what to do. He always does.  

Rose leaves with Lily, leaving just Albus and Scorpius. Albus cradles Scorpius’s head tenderly in his lap. “It’s okay, Scorp,” he whispers. His voice sounds broken to his own ears. “Mum and Dad will be here. They’ll know what to do.”

He can only hope that that’s true.

His dad reaches about two seconds before his mum does. His dad has Jamie with him, and his mum has Rosie. Freddie’s right behind his mum, frowning in concern.

Albus ignores all of them, looks right up at his dad. If anyone can fix it, it’s his dad. He knows that. “Dad,” he whispers. “Help.”

*

James

The thing is, Jamie has been having such a good day.

He’s proud of his Patronus — Prongs, he calls it in his head. He’s proud of the work he and Prongs have done together, and he’s looking forward to going back to the Gryffindor common room and showing Leah.

All of that, all the happiness and pride he’d been feeling, completely disappears when he sees his sister. None of them say anything as they follow Lily up to the fourth floor, but Jamie’s already dreading what he sees.

It takes all of Jamie’s will power not to scream when he sees the state his brother and Scorpius are in. Scorpius, who he hasn’t thought of as a brother, exactly, but more like a fun person who stays with them at home sometimes, and who Al’s been completely gone for since he was eleven. Scorpius and Albus both look bad, but Scorpius especially so: he’s lying down — more like slumped over — with his head in Albus’s lap. He’s covered in gashes and is bleeding.

“What the hell happened, Al?” he demands. He’s never seen Albus like this. He and Al have gotten into their fair share of arguments, some of which have turned into fights, but Albus looks upset now, and scared. Jamie feels a sudden rush of protective rage course through him: he wants nothing more than to get to the bottom of this, to do something that will fix everything.

Albus shakes his head mutely and looks back up at their dad, who seems to take swift action in the way that only he can.

“Do you know what curse it is?” his mum asks his dad calmly.

“Think so,” he replies. “Looks like Sectumsempra to me. We’ll need — Hannah. Maybe Mungo’s.” He waves his wand over Scorpius, frowning in concentration. A Diagnostic spell, Jamie guesses. He doesn’t know. He’s not used to not knowing anything.

“What happened?” Freddie asks, echoing Jamie’s words.

“Is Scorpius going to be okay?” Albus asks in a small voice.

“Dad, you can fix it, right?” Lily asks.

“Everyone, quiet!” his dad says. They all fall silent instantly. “Okay. Alright. One second,” he mutters, and leans over Scorpius, muttering a series of spells, or maybe the same spell over and over. When he pulls back, Scorpius looks less pale, and the gashes have healed up. He even manages to open his eyes, and Jamie sighs in relief.

“Gin,” his dad says. “We need to go.”

“Go where?” Freddie demands.

“Hospital wing,” his mum says. “All of you had better come, too. Lily, you’ll need something for shock. And Al and Rose will need to be looked over.”

“And us?” Jamie asks.

His dad turns and gives him a wry smile. “I already know better than to stop you both. Come on.” He carefully lifts Scorpius up, as if he weighs nothing at all. Jamie rushes over to help Albus to his feet, and Rose leans into Freddie’s arms. His mum holds Lily, and they start walking to the hospital wing: the sorriest procession of all time, Jamie thinks.  

“What do you think this means?” Freddie mutters to Jamie, falling into step next to him.

“You know what this means,” Jamie tells him grimly. “It means we were right.”

“Right about what?” Rose asks weakly.

“Someone’s trying to attack us. Someone in Hogwarts,” Jamie says.

“And,” Freddie adds, “it looks like they were successful.”

Back to index

Chapter 13: xiii

Author's Notes: hope you enjoy

When Ginny was fifteen years old, a few days before Harry first kissed her, she sat down with Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the common room. Shaking, pale, looking more upset than Ginny’d ever seen him before, Harry told them about what happened to Malfoy. Sectumsempra, he said. The curse he discovered in the Prince’s book. In Snape’s book. He’d been more upset than she’d ever seen him before.

“I didn’t know,” he said, back then. It’d been the only defence he’d been able to offer. “I didn’t know what it did. I wouldn’t have… if I would have known what it did, I wouldn’t have.”

She came to his defence then, because he hadn’t known what it did. It was one of the first and only arguments she’d ever gotten into with Hermione. It was clear to Ginny that Harry wouldn’t have ever, ever considered using Sectumsempra on anyone if he had known what it did. How could he? Dark magic like that, it wasn’t something he was capable of.

A little while before her sixteenth birthday, she had to see her brother without an ear. Pale and injured on the sofa in the living room of the Burrow, George managed to joke about it. Saint-like, he said, because of the hole in his ear. She smiled at his joke, but for the next few months, even as everything went to hell around them, up until she had to go back to Hogwarts, she had to force herself not to flinch when she saw the sight of it. Snape’s work, Lupin had said. Sectumsempra. One of the worst curses.

And now, in a perverse, terrible sort of way, history’s repeating himself, she thinks, as she holds onto Harry’s hand, watching Hannah run a diagnostic spell on Scorpius, who’s lying in bed. Another Malfoy, another Sectumsempra. Another person she loves, after George, who she couldn’t protect from the curse. This feels worse, though. Worse than when Harry used it on Malfoy, worse than when George had gotten hit by the curse. A thousand times worse. He looks pale and small, and Ginny wants to wrap him up in blankets and make sure nothing bad ever happens to him. What makes it worse is that Scorpius didn’t know, had no idea he was in any sort of danger at all. Mafoy had been trying to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry; George had willingly volunteered for a fight against Death Eaters if it meant getting Harry home safe. All Scorpius had been doing was going about his day at school.

She’s had Scorpius stay at her home before. It’s impossible not to be attached to him. She thinks about her own mum saying about Harry, back at Grimmauld Place, that he’s as good as her son, and she thinks she understands where she’s coming from. She feels as bad about Scorpius being hurt as she feels about Albus and Rose.

Albus is sitting down next to Scorpius’s bed, having adamantly refused a bed of his own. Rose is next to him, and Lily’s perched on the end of the bed. Ginny looks at the way Albus is holding Scorpius’s hand, and it takes all her will power to not tear up at the sight. She doesn’t like succumbing to tears; she never has, but it’s taking all her effort to not give in now. She thinks Harry knows, because his hand is tight around hers – or maybe he needs it as much as she does.

Once she finished the diagnostic spell, Hannah nods at Harry and Ginny, and they follow her a little bit away, out of the children’s earshot. “How bad is it, Hannah?” Ginny asks quietly.

Hannah hesitates before she answers – never a good sign, Ginny thinks. “It’s not as bad as it could be,” she says finally. “That was incredibly quick thinking, repairing the cuts like that,” she adds to Harry.

Cuts is a trivial word to describe the gashes on Scorpius, the ones that had ripped open his robes. Ginny shivers at the memory of Scorpius, lying on the ground with Albus, seconds away from passing out.

“Wasn’t the first time I’ve had to do it,” Harry says, very quietly. “Or the first time I’ve seen it done.” He squeezes Ginny’s hand, and she squeezes it in return.

“Well, you healed them just in time. But there’s internal damage,” Hannah continues. “It appears as if more than one student cast Sectumsempra on him. More than once. If you hadn’t repaired the cuts…” she actually shudders and then takes a moment to compose herself before she continues. “You saved his life, I’d say. Scorpius will need to be here for a week. Maybe more, depending on how he responds to everything.”

“But he’ll be okay?” Ginny asks softly.

“He will,” Hannah says. “Eventually. He needs some time to let himself recover. I’ve got some potions that will help, and I’ll keep a close eye on him. I’ve seen people recover fully from far worse spell damage, so I have no doubt that he’ll make a full recovery.”

“And… the others?” Harry asks.

Hannah gives them a sympathetic look. “Rose and Albus were both hit with curses of some kind. It seems to be… like the Cruciatus Curse, but less forceful. It isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. I’d like to keep them overnight to observe them, to see if there’s any lasting effects.”

Harry frowns. “A new curse?” he says slowly.

Ginny didn’t think it was possible for her heart to sink more than it already has. She wishes she wasn’t, but she’s well acquainted with the Cruciatus Curse. She knows Harry is, too. And her son and niece now know a little bit about the horrors of it. The only tiny thing she’s grateful for is that it seems to be a modified version of the Cruciatus. That’s something, she supposes.

“It seems like it to me,” Hannah says. “I’m going to have to owl Scorpius’s parents, though. And maybe Ron and Hermione, too, because Rose might like to see them…”

“Don’t bother. I’ll get them a message,” Harry says. “An owl might only reach them in an hour or so. I can get them a message right now.”

“Oh, good. I’ll go back to the children, then,” Hannah says. She Summons a potion on her way to Scorpius’s bed, bustling with worry. Ginny’s suddenly reminded of Madam Pomfrey.  

Ginny watches Harry as he sends a Patronus to Malfoy and then one to Ron and Hermione, and then looks up at him. “So,” she says. She doesn’t have to say anything else.

Harry meets her eyes. “Malfoy’s going to kill me. I promised him I’d keep Scorpius safe. And look at me now,” he says, almost bitterly. “My son and niece hit with a new torture curse. Scorpius… hurt. And it all happened right where we were, Gin.”

Ginny doesn’t say anything for a moment. She doesn’t know where to even begin. Ever since Rose burst into her room, looking worried and frantic and injured, she’s been running on adrenaline, and she doesn’t want to think about what will happen once she sits down and lets the events of the last few hours sink in. Finally, she squeezes Harry’s hand and says, “It wasn’t our fault. It wasn’t your fault.”

Harry looks miserable, absolutely miserable. “Wasn’t it, though?” he says quietly.

Ginny shakes her head. “No. The people who attacked our children, it’s their fault,” she says. She doesn’t think twice about including Scorpius in that category. “But if we don’t talk to them now, and we don’t deal with it, and we don’t do our very best to make sure whoever did it is caught, and that they’re alright, then that will be our fault.”

Harry brings a hand up to cup her cheek. She nudges her head into his palm without thinking about it, grateful for the comfort. “You’re right,” he agrees.

“I’m always right. Almost twenty years of marriage and you don’t know that yet?” Ginny says, and offers him a tiny smile.

“Yeah, how very dare I?” Harry says dryly. He lets her lead him to the others.

Scorpius is fast asleep now (A Dreamless Sleep Potion, she suspects). Hannah seems to have forced Albus into the bed next to Scorpius, but he’s still leaning across to hold onto Scorpius’s hand. Rose is sitting up in the bed on Scorpius’s other side, curled up like a cat. She and Albus look completely exhausted. Jamie and Freddie are perched on the ends of Al and Rose’s beds, respectively, and Lily’s sitting down next to Jamie, cuddled into his side. Ginny sits down in a chair in between Albus and Scorpius, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“How are you feeling, Al?” she asks him softly.

“Awful,” Albus admits. “But I’m fine, Mum, really.”

“Do you think you’d both be up to telling us the entire story?” Harry asks gently. He sits down next to Ginny, and Lily hesitates for a moment before she climbs off Albus’s bed and sits down in Harry’s lap. He wraps his arms around her immediately. She seems smaller than usual to Ginny, small and vulnerable and scared in a way that she usually doesn’t let herself be.

“Yeah. The sooner you tell us, the sooner we get the bastards who did it,” Jamie says, and leans over to ruffle Albus’s already messy hair.

“Hear, hear,” Freddie agrees.

Rosie and Albus exchange glasses. “You can tell them,” Al says. Ginny distinctly sees him give Scorpius’s hand a squeeze.

Rose clears her throat, and then gets up, carefully moving so she’s sitting on the edge of Scorpius’s bed, closer to them. Freddie gets up, comes to sit with Jamie on Al’s bed. “Okay,” Rosie says, “but I don’t know how well I remember it.”

“Come on, Rosie. You remember everything,” Albus says.

“It’s why you were always the best at telling on us when we were younger,” Freddie says with a snort.

“Back when we were young and mischievous, of course,” Jamie says.

“Definitely. Not now, because we’re serious and well-behaved,” Freddie says.

“Don’t step a toe out of line, that’s us,” Jamie agrees.

Albus grins at that. “Would you still describe yourself that way if I told Mum and Dad about the Dungbombs incident?”

“What Dungbombs incident?” Ginny asks.

“Nothing,” Jamie says hastily.

“Just some ribbing among brothers, Aunt Gin, you know how it is,” Freddie adds.

“Exactly. Brotherly joking,” Jamie says. “Now onto the story. You were saying, Rose?”

Rose, who’s smiling at them, takes a deep breath and then slowly starts talking, filling them in on what happened. Now and then, Albus interjects, correcting a detail or (more likely, Ginny thinks) giving Rose a quick break for her to take a moment.

“And then Lily showed up,” Albus concludes. “And I told her to get you, Dad. So she went to the Defence classroom, and Rosie went to get Mum.”

“Holy shit,” Freddie mutters at the end of it.

Ginny can’t say she disagrees. “Are you—are you both feeling alright?” she asks. It’s very much an insufficient question, but it’s all she can manage right now. She feels a wave of protective rage wash over her, and she doesn’t think she’s ever been this angry before, not ever. Next to her, Harry’s gone completely still, and she knows that he’s every bit as angry as she is, if not more so.

“We’ll be fine,” Rose says quietly. “Really. We will be.”

“It’s Scorp I’m worried about,” Albus says. “What happened to him?”

“Yes,” says a cold voice at the door. “I’d like to know the same thing.”

Ginny turns to look at the doorway, and sees Draco Malfoy standing there, cold with fury, and Astoria standing next to him, still wearing her Mediwitch robes. She gets up immediately, walks over to Astoria. “He’s going to be okay,” she whispers to her. If it was her, and she’d walked into the sight of her son in the Hospital Wing, the first thing she’d be worried about is that.

Astoria looks at her, her eyes bright with tears, and offers her a grateful smile. Malfoy ignores her completely, however, and walks towards Harry and the others.

“Potter,” he says, “would you care to explain what the hell my son is doing in the Hospital Wing?”

*

Back to index

Chapter 14: xiv

Author's Notes: enjoy this longer than usual chapter!

When Harry leaves the Hospital Wing, twenty minutes or so later, Malfoy’s right behind him.

“Where are you going?” he demands.

Instead of answering him, Harry turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to stay with Scorpius?” he asks. Hannah’s promised to kick them all out in the night, but she’s allowing them to stay for now. Instead of coming with him, Ginny’s staying with their children, and Harry can’t blame her. He’d stay, too, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s got to hurry now.

“Astoria’s with him,” Malfoy says. “Where are you going?”

Harry hesitates for a split second, and then decides to be honest. “To meet McGonagall,” he says.

“I’m coming, too,” Malfoy says. “Someone attacked my son. I need answers.”

“Okay," Harry says. They fall into step together as they start walking up to the Headmistress’s office.

“You promised,” Malfoy finally says, after a moment of silence. “You promised that you’d keep him safe.”

Harry closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face. “I know,” he says.

“What happened?” Malfoy asks.

“You know what happened,” Harry says. Hannah had explained the incident, as quickly as she could. She hadn’t gone into too much detail, though. Scorpius, Albus and Rose were attacked by some students, who used Dark magic on all three of them, especially Scorpius.

“Yes,” Malfoy says, “I want to hear it from you, though.”

Harry would probably feel the same, in his position. “From what I know… they were on the fourth floor. And then someone — Al says there were at least two people, but I haven’t ruled out more than two — made it go dark. Lumos didn’t work.”

Malfoy looks at Harry, pale. “Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” he whispers.

“Yes, I think so. And then… well, they attacked all three of them. Albus and Rose seem to have been hit by a curse that’s, well. A curse that’s similar to the Cruciatus Curse, but slightly less intense.” Harry swallows around the sudden lump that seems to have formed in his throat.

“And Scorpius?” Malfoy asks, barely louder than a whisper.

“It seems to have been… Sectumsempra. From what we can tell,” Harry says.

Malfoy looks at him, pale with fear and ill-concealed anger. “And then what happened?” he bites out.

“Lily found them. Albus told her to come get me. Rose went to get Ginny. James and I were in my classroom, and then we found them. Ginny and I took them to the Hospital Wing, and… and well, you know the rest,” Harry says, and then says, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what he’s apologising for, exactly, but Scorpius is in bed, healing from a curse than Harry had once inflicted on Malfoy himself, and Albus and Rose aren’t doing too much better. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop feeling guilty about it.

“Hannah says you healed him,” Malfoy says, apropos of nothing.

Harry doesn’t say anything, getting his wand out instead and mutters, “Expecto Patronum.”

“And Astoria, she said that, too,” Malfoy presses on, turning to watch the silver stag go to the staircase and gallop up before disappearing. “Is that true? You saved him?”

“Well, yeah. Course I did,” Harry says, taken aback.

“Well… thank you,” Malfoy says. He looks physically pained to have to say that. “What’s the Patronus for? Don’t tell me there’s another damned Dementor around.”

Harry shakes his head, glad for the slight change in topic. “It’s a message,” he says, and then draws to a halt.

“Aren’t we going to McGonagall’s office?” Malfoy says.

“No,” Harry says, and waits.

Within a few minutes, McGonagall is walking towards them, making her way quickly despite her age. “What happened?” she demands.

“There’s been an attack, Professor,” Harry says. “Here. And we’ve got to act fast.”

“An attack?” McGonagall repeats, and then looks at Malfoy.

“Scorpius was hurt. Here, on this corridor,” Harry says. “And Al and Rose, too. Sectumsempra and a new curse. At least two students, probably older, judging by the level of magic.” He’s talking fast, practically tripping over his words in his haste.

McGonagall takes a second, and then draws herself up to her full height. “I see,” she says. “What do you need from me, Potter? How do you want to handle this?”

Harry practically sobs in gratitude. “I need to cordon off this area, Professor. And… I’m going to have to check the wands of the students. Priori Incantato. And it’s a lot of students, and we’ll have to investigate the area, so I need your permission to get some Aurors here to help with that.”

McGonagall blinks behind her square spectacles as she takes it in and then says, “I will speak to the school at dinner, since it’s almost time for that, anyway. Inform them of the attack — without giving too many details, of course — and warn for caution. The other teacher and I can check students’ wands as they leave the Great Hall. Which will leave you free to investigate the area and clear it of any traces of Dark magic and evidence by the time dinner is finished, along with any Aurors who join you. Does that sound satisfactory?”

It’s times like this when Harry is reminded of just how much he admires McGonagall. “That… yeah. That’d work,” he says.

“Good. Do you need assistance here now?” McGonagall asks. When Harry shakes her head, she says, “Very well, then I’d like to go meet the students in the Hospital Wings. Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you would accompany me. I’m sure Scorpius would want you there with him.”

Malfoy looks at Harry. “If you find out anything about who hurt him…”

“I’ll tell you,” Harry says, and he means it.

Malfoy nods curtly at him and follows McGonagall out to the Hospital Wing. Harry sends off a couple of more Patronuses, and then gets to work sectioning off the corridor. He’s got work to do.

*

“Did you say Rose and Albus were both with Scorpius, when it happened?” Teddy asks Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry says, looking up from where he’s been talking to Ron and Hermione, who just arrived five minutes ago from the Hospital Wing, where they were visiting Rose. Teddy, whose hair is aquamarine-blue today, got here about twenty minutes ago, ten minutes after Harry sent him a Patronus, and they’ve been investigating the area ever since, trying to find any sort of clue that can help them. While he’s been filling Ron and Hermione in on what happened, Teddy’s been doing a quick sweep of the area, seeing how many people have cast powerful spells here within the last few hours. It’ll allow them an approximate idea of how many people were there at the time of the attack, which is a start.

“Then I think they were attacked by two people. Which is a bit worrying, because whoever did it managed to attack all three of them more than once,” Teddy says, getting to his feet.

“What do you think?” Ron asks him.

Harry sighs. “Two students who managed to do that much damage that quickly? It means they’d been planning it for a while. Maybe even since the start of term.”

“When did you say the other Aurors are getting here?” Teddy asks, getting out a notebook from the pocket of his robes and starting to take notes.

“About that…” Hermione says.

Harry looks at her, and frowns. “What?”

“I spoke to Padma Patil. She’s sending two more Aurors.”

“Okay. That’s good,” Harry says. “Who is she sending?”

Hermione sighs. “She’s sending Zara Khan, along with Proudfoot.”

“Proudfoot’s retired,” Harry says, confused.

“No, his daughter. She just graduated Auror training last year, along with Khan. Joined the Department a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, yeah, she was at school with me,” Teddy puts in. “A few years younger, though.”

“So neither of them have worked a case before?” Ron asks.

“Yes,” Hermione says. “Padma doesn’t know how many more she can spare. The way she sees it, we can’t afford to send too Aurors for an internal Hogwarts matter.”

“An internal–Hermione, there was Dark magic involved!” Harry says.

“I know, Harry, but… try and see it from her point of view,” Hermione says. “Technically, this isn’t even an Auror investigation yet. And you’re not–well, you’re not Head of the Department anymore, and Padma thinks the senior Aurors need to focus on other things.”

“Other things like what?” Ron asks indignantly.

“Well… the Bulgarian Minister will be arriving for a diplomatic visit tomorrow, and the Aurors are in charge of his security…”

Harry narrows his eyes at her.

“I’m just the messenger, don’t get mad at me,” Hermione says.

“You’re the Minister for Magic, Hermione,” Harry says.

“I know I am!” Hermione says. “But I can’t be seen forcing the senior Aurors to work a case for my own personal agenda–”

“Personal agenda?” Harry repeats, crossing his arms and doing his best to push back the sudden wave of anger he can feel coursing through him.

“My daughter was hurt!” Hermione says. “How do you think it would look, if I go over Padma’s head to force the Aurors to work the case? I’d be abusing my authority–”

“So you’re more worried about how this looks than anything else?” Harry says, raising an eyebrow at Hermione.

Hermione blushes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she says hotly.

“Isn’t it?” Harry says.

“Of course not!” Hermione says. “Our children were attacked–for all we know, they were targeted, and–"

“Wait,” Harry says, interrupting Hermione mid-word. His anger recedes as quickly as it came, leaving behind shock as a realisation hits him, all of a sudden.

“What is it?” Ron asks.

Harry only shakes his head. “It wasn’t them,” he says quietly. It can’t be, but… but it’s the only thing that makes sense, even if it’s a bit of a leap in logic–it makes sense, though. Instinctively, Harry knows that it does.

“What?” Hermione asks, still looking wary.

“What are you talking about, mate?” Ron says.

“It wasn’t our children, who were targeted,” Harry says. “Albus… when he and Rose were telling us the story of what happened… he said… one of the students called out to them. Said traitor, but… that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t?” Teddy repeats, his eyes wide as he looks up at Harry.

“Why would anyone call Al and Rosie a traitor?” Harry says. “If this is related to the graffiti you saw in London, Teddy, then why would anyone expect Al and Rose to support that? Why wouldn’t they be on the side of their dad or uncle?”

Teddy and Hermione look a bit confused still but Ron, who’s got experience working cases with Harry, stands up a bit straighter.

“But anyone on the Death Eaters’ side, on the other hand,” Harry continues. “They would expect Malfoy to be against me. Which means…”

“That they’d expect they’d expect Malfoy’s son to be against you, too,” Hermione whispers, a look of dawning comprehension on her face.

“And what happened last Saturday?” Harry says. When Ron and Hermione — and Teddy — don’t say anything, he adds impatiently, “Scorpius and Al went to Hogsmeade together. Together. And two days after that, someone calls Scorpius a traitor and attacks him, more than they attack the others. Albus and Rose weren’t hit with any Sectumsempras or anything like that.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron says.

“Wait,” Teddy says. “So… what does this mean?”

“It means,” Harry says, “that whoever did this singled out Scorpius. They attacked him, and Albus and Rose were…”

“Collateral,” Ron finishes.

Harry nods grimly. “Which means that we need to talk to Scorpius. If we’re right, then he might be able to tell us whose voice it was, whether it was familiar at all. And if it’s familiar, then… Then it means that someone’s targeting Scorpius specifically. And we need to stop them before they try again.”

*

The next morning, Harry and Ginny are on their way to the Hospital Wing when McGonagall catches up with him. Hermione and Ron, after seeing Rose and hastily meeting Hugo, left to go back home, and Astoria had to leave as well, but Malfoy stayed back with Scorpius, and he knows he’ll meet him now when he goes to the Hospital Wing. It can’t be avoided; he needs to speak to Al, Scorpius, and Rose before Hannah discharges Al and Rose, so he’s got to hurry. After filling Ginny in last night, she’s just as worried as he is, and the only thing keeping him calm is the steady presence of her next to him.

He’s deep in enough in thought that he only realises McGonagall’s caught up with him when Ginny says, “Oh, hi, Professor.”

“Hi, Professor,” he says tiredly.

McGonagall nods in greeting, and then says, “Did you find anything useful yesterday?”

“I think they were going after Scorpius,” Harry says. “I’ve got Teddy and the other Aurors looking into Death Eaters who are enemies of Malfoy.”

“How were the wand checks?” Ginny asks.

“Well,” McGonagall says. “Inconclusive. As you know, we can only check for the last five spells that a witch or wizard used. And to save time, we only checked the sixth and seventh years, and we found nothing like the curses that affected the children.”

Harry sighs, somehow not surprised by that.

“How is that possible?” Ginny says indignantly.

“Well, if the attack was premeditated, then they probably had the sense to scarper and then cast five Accio or something at once,” Harry says.

“Precisely,” McGonagall agrees. “The other teachers and I will, of course, be on the lookout. Until we find anything suspicious, however, the most we can hope for is that the perpetrators will have a change of hearts and come clean.”

Ginny snorts. “And how likely do you think that is?”

McGonagall doesn’t answer, but the look on her face is enough to tell Harry that she isn’t very hopeful.

Harry leans over and opens the doors to the Hospital Wing, and then smiles despite himself at what he sees.

Scorpius is sitting up in bed, pale but smiling. Albus and Rose are perched on the end of Scorpius’s bed, and Freddie and Jamie are sitting on chairs right next door. Lily, Roxanne, and Hugo are there, too, sitting down on the bed next to Scorpius’s. Looking as if he doesn’t belong there, Malfoy’s perched on a chair a little distance away, watching the scene warily.

“And if you see them,” Jamie says, “just make sure to cast a big enough hex that–”

McGonagall clears her throat, and Jamie looks up at her, grinning. “Hi, Professor,” he says cheerfully.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall says, but a small smile lingers around the corner of her lips. “Are all of you not meant to be in class or at breakfast?”

“We’re not hungry,” Roxanne says.

“We wanted to see if Al and Rose and Scorpius are alright,” Hugo explains.

“Besides, class hasn’t started yet, Professor,” Freddie says.

“And we’ve got Transfiguration first thing,” Jamie says.

“Which we wouldn’t dare to be late for,” Freddie says sweetly.

“Mum,” Albus says softly. “Dad. Is everything alright?”

Harry clears his throat, and then looks at Ginny, who nods.

“Everything’s fine,” she says calmly. “Except… except we think, because of what you lot heard the students say before it happened, that they were attacking you, Scorp.”

Albus sits up, and leans over, grabbing Scorpius’s hand immediately. Rose grabs his spare hand. Malfoy gets up, rushes over to them, and smooths his hand over Scorpius’s pale blond hair.

“I thought as much,” Scorpius admits, leaning back against the pillows. “Traitor, they called me.”

“They did?” Malfoy says, and Scorpius nods, moving a bit closer to his dad’s side.

Jamie stands up, looking serious. “Scorp, don’t worry. We won’t let you be alone. If anyone tries to go up against you again, they’ll realise very soon that it’s not a smart thing to do.”

“Exactly,” Freddie agrees and then, catching McGonagall’s eye, says, “By which we mean we’ll calmly and non-violently bring them to your office, Professor.”

“Of course. No hexing involved,” Jamie says.

McGonagall does smile at that, and then tells Scorpius gently, “Mr. Malfoy, we will all ensure nothing like this happens again.”

“I’m not worried,” Scorpius says.

“Good,” Albus say softly.

“You shouldn’t be worried,” Lily puts in. “Whoever tried to get to you and Al and Rosie, they’ll realise soon that it never ends well for anyone who gets on the wrong side of a Potter.”

Back to index

Chapter 15: xv.

Author's Notes: so sorry for the delay between chapters! thank you all for being patient with me, and hopefully the next one won't take too long :) as always, let me know what you think!!

It takes two weeks for Scorpius is discharged from the Hospital Wing. The past two weeks, Harry’s visited Scorpius once or twice, but he knows for a fact that Albus visits him every single day.

They are investigating the attack on Scorpius and the others. Harry’s got a list of suspects, but McGonagall’s told him – and he has to agree with her – that he can’t interrogate any student unless he has any sort of evidence. Malfoy’s also promised to let him know if any of his old Death Eater pals get in touch with him or let something slip, but so far, nothing. He’s also got Teddy following up on any leads on the Dementor attacks, because he can’t shake the feeling that it’s all connected, that he can’t see the bigger picture, and that he’s somehow involved in all of it. All of the investigating isn’t turning up any promising results, though: they still don’t know who it was who it was that attacked them, but Harry’s spoken to McGonagall about security measures, and he hopes that once Scorpius is discharged, he’ll be able to prevent anything like that happening again.

“I would have liked him to stay here for longer,” Hannah tells Harry and Ginny at breakfast, the morning that Scorpius is finally discharged from the Hospital Wing, “but he’s absolutely promised me he’s going to rest as much as possible and come back to me if he feels sick.”

“Is he better now, then?” Harry asks.

“Well, he’s all healed. There doesn’t seem to be any issues with internal bleeding anymore. And the cuts haven’t opened back up,” Hannah says.

“Was that a possibility?” Ginny asks, sounding aghast.

“I thought it might be,” Hannah says. “Luckily, it didn’t happen. So, he’s healed, but… he’s still a bit weak. I don’t think his resistance to curses will be that great for a while. He’ll be extra vulnerable, if something like this happens again.”

“Well,” Harry says, “then we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

It doesn’t feel like such a simple task. He has Defence Against the Dark Arts with the third year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws after the break today, and he opens the door to the classroom five minutes early.

The Gryffindors come in first, chattering among themselves. “Hi, Professor,” a few of them call out cheerfully, and Harry nods at them, but doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting, breath held in anticipation.

Finally, the Ravenclaws start to file in, and bringing up the rear, Harry spots Scorpius, flanked protectively by Albus and Rosie, and another girl Harry recognises as Mary Corner, the daughter of Cho and Michael Corner. She looks almost exactly like her mother, so it’s easy to recognise her. Scorpius looks pale, but when he sees Harry, he gives him a smile. They sit near the front, the three of them, which Harry is very grateful for.

“Alright,” he says, and clears his throat. It’s very gratifying when the entire class falls silent. “I know we’ve already talked about Disarming, but it’s very important. There have been… attacks, in the castle,” he says, and he doesn’t have to look directly at Scorpius to see that he’s blushing, “and Disarming is a simple way to prevent anything like that happening again. It can also be your best friend in an unexpected duel. So. We’re practising Expelliarmus today. Along with Stupefy and Protego, it’s maybe the most useful spell. Pair up and get to work. Any questions?”

Most students don’t say anything, but one student, a boy from Gryffindor whose name Harry thinks is either David or Daniiel, says, “Professor, will Expelliarmus help us if something happens like what happened to Scorpius?”

Harry should have seen this coming, he thinks. He hesitates for a moment, and then says, “Every Defensive spell won’t work against every sort of attack, but Disarming your opponent is a good start.”

“Did you try that?” the boy asks Scorpius.

“There’s no need to bring him into it!” Albus says immediately.

“I was just wondering—”

“Maybe you should wonder about your own life instead,” Mary suggests with a sweet smile.

“Professor, I think you should teach us stronger hexes, so I can use one against David,” Rosie says.

“Very good idea,” Albus agrees.

“That’s enough,” Harry says. “To answer your question, David, Disarming is very useful in a wizard’s duel. A traditional duel, where you can see your attacker.”

“I’m not sure how useful it would be if someone decides to attack your back in the dark,” Albus says, flushed with anger.

“They attacked you to your back?” David asks Scorpius.

“That’s cowardly!” says the girl sitting next to him.

Scorpius nods in agreement and shifts a bit closer to Albus.

“I’m glad you’re okay, mate,” David says, and looks back at Harry. “Professor, what do we do if that happens again?”

Harry sighs. “I hope it won’t. If it happens again, you find a teacher, as fast as you can.”

“And if we can’t find anyone?” asks the girl next to David.

“If you can’t find anyone, then you can try to Disarm or Stun your opponent,” Harry says. “Alright? Pair up now, no more questions.”

The rest of the class is mostly uneventful, thankfully, and a few minutes before the end, Harry calls out, “Okay, that’s enough for today. For homework, practice. I think all of you will be able to perfect it by the end of the week, and then we can move on from there. Scorpius, will you stay back after class, please?”

Albus stays back with Scorpius, once everyone else leaves for lunch, and they approach Harry’s desk, Albus looking defiant, Scorpius looking nervous.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks Scorpius gently.

Scorpius considers. “I’m okay, Mr. Potter. Just… really tired. I keep having to sit down all the time. And Healer Abbott said I can’t play Quidditch just yet.”

“The tiredness will get better, right, Dad?” Albus asks Harry hopefully.

“I’m sure it will, with time,” Harry says. “But I need you both to be careful, okay? Don’t go anywhere alone. Whoever hurt you both and Rose… we haven’t figured out just yet who it was. So be careful.”

“We will,” Scorpius says immediately. “My dad told me that, as well.”

There used to be a time where Harry genuinely didn’t believe he could have anything in common with Draco Malfoy, but stranger things have happened.

“Oh, there you both are,” says a voice from the doorway, and Harry looks up to see Jamie, who’s standing with Freddie in the doorway.

“Hi, Uncle Professor,” Freddie says with a grin, walking into the classroom with Jamie.

“Hi, Freddie,” Harry says, shaking his head. “What are you both doing here?”

“We thought that Al and Scorp might want to eat lunch with us at the Gryffindor table today,” Freddie says, and slings his arm around Scorpius’s shoulders.

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Scorpius says delightedly.

“What brought this on?” Albus asks, suspicious.

Freddie rolls his eyes and says, “You’re not the only one who wants to make sure nothing happens to young Scorp here, Al.”

“We’re not too keen on something happening to you either, baby brother,” Jamie says, and ruffles Albus’s hair. “Come on, don’t be an idiot. Will you come or not?”

“Er… okay,” Albus says.

“Don’t forget to come to the Potter’s Army meeting today evening, Dad. It’s a special one,” Jamie says, winking at Harry before he and Freddie shepherd Albus and Scorpius out of the classroom.

Amused, Harry sits back in his seat. It seems like he isn’t the only one who wants to make sure the attacks don’t happen again.

*

The Potter’s Army meeting that evening turns out to be less of a meeting and more of a welcome back party for Scorpius, planned by Jamie, Freddie, Leah, and Danielle. Harry and Ginny get there early, as per Jamie’s explicit instructions, and find the desks all pushed against the wall. There’s a wireless radio playing Celestina Warbeck’s greatest hits, and the desks are piled high with glasses of pumpkin juice and Butterbeer bottles. There’s also plates with biscuits and cupcakes on them, and what seems to be an actual cake, too.

“How did McGonagall let you throw a party in the Defence classroom?” Ginny wonders.

“It’s not a party,” Freddie says.

“It’s just a gathering. A Defence club gathering,” Jamie says.

“And, you know. Leah and I happened to be passing by the kitchens on the way up here,” Danielle says.

“And the house elves had some goodies to spare,” Leah finishes. “So we asked if they minded if we took it.”

“And they didn’t,” Danielle says.

“There’s Butterbeer in the kitchens, is there?” Harry asks, amused.

Leah gives Harry an innocent look that would be almost convincing if Harry hadn’t raised James Sirius Potter. “Sometimes there is, Professor,” she says.

“Especially if you ask the house-elves to stock up,” Danielle says.

“A few days in advance, of course,” Freddie says. “So that there’s plenty of time, hypothetically, to place an order for it.”

“Well, there’s never any harm in forethought,” Leah agrees.

“That’s a good Prefect,” Jamie says. “Always thinking ahead.”

Leah gives Jamie a bright smile. “Come on, then, Potter. Let’s get a Butterbeer.”

“Excellent idea, Wood,” Jamie agrees, nudging her with his elbow as they walk to one of the desks.

Ginny nudges Harry. “Were we ever that obvious?” she whispers to him.

“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry says, and wraps his arm around her.

“It is nice, though, isn’t it?” Ginny says. “Having a party, I mean. You know what it reminds me of?”

“What’s that?”

Ginny turns to look at him with a familiar blazing look in her eyes. “Reminds me of when we first kissed.”

Harry grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ginny says, and then leans up to kiss him.

Harry loses track of time, the way he always seems to whenever Ginny kisses him, even after all these years. He doesn’t think the blissful feeling that overcomes him whenever Ginny kisses him will ever fade. He loses himself in it, and only pulls back when he hears someone say, “Dad, Mum, stop it!”

He pulls back, turning to look at Albus and Scorpius, and Lily, who’s the one who protested.

“You should be glad you have parents who love each other,” Ginny tells Lily, unabashed.

“Do you have to love each other in front of everyone?” Albus grumbles.

“Well, no, we don’t have to… we still want, though,” Ginny grins.

Scorpius giggles at that. “Wanna go get some cake, Al?” he asks, linking his arm through Albus’s when Albus nods.

Lily lingers back, biting her lip a little.

“Everything alright, Lils?” Harry asks her.

“Yeah,” Lily says, and then, “Actually, no, it isn’t. I don’t know.”

“What happened?” Ginny says.

Lily bites her lip and then says. “It’s sort of a long story,” she says.

Growing worried, Harry exchanges a look with Ginny. “Okay,” he says, resting his hand on Lily’s shoulder and leading her to a relatively quiet corner of the classroom. Ginny follows them, looking as concerned as he feels.

“I have to tell you something,” Lily says. “Both of you. And you can’t ask me how I know. Well, I suppose you can, but. You can’t get angry with me about it.”

Never a good sign, Harry thinks.

“Why don’t you tell us first, and then we’ll worry about the rest of it?” Ginny suggests.

Lily’s fiddling with her hands, knotting her hands together nervously. “I… okay. Fine,” she agrees.

“Go on, Lils. What is it?” Harry asks.

Lily takes a deep breath and says, “I think I know who attacked Scorpius.”

*

Back to index

Chapter 16: xvi

The day after Scorpius, Rosie, and Al are attacked, Lily sneaks into the Hufflepuff common room. They’ve decided that’s the safest place for all of them to meet: the Ravenclaw common room has a risk of being overheard by Albus, Scorpius, Rose, or any of their friends, the Slytherin common room is out of the reckoning because Lily doesn’t trust most of her housemates, and the Gryffindor common room results in them being found out by Jamie, or Freddie. The Hufflepuffs are always nice to her and the others, even though they’re in a different house, and she knows they’ll never be caught or get in trouble for sneaking into a common room they don’t technically belong to. Besides, it’s near the kitchens, which is an added advantage.

She knocks on the barrel outside to the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’, practically buzzing with impatience. By the time she makes it inside, the others are all there. Hugo’s there, of course, sitting with Lysander on the sofa. Lorcan’s sitting at their feet, lounging on a floor cushion.

“Where have you been?” Lorcan asks, making room for her on the floor cushion he’s sitting on.

“Hospital Wing,” Lily answers. She sits down next to Lorcan, leaning back against Hugo’s legs.

“How are they?” Lysander asks.

“Al and Rosie have been discharged,” Lily says, and Hugo flinches. “But Scorp’s still there. I think he’ll be there for a while, to be honest.”

“I still can’t believe someone would do that,” Hugo says, his eyes wide. “I mean, they all could’ve gotten hurt.”

“They did get hurt,” Lysander says. “It’s just lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Lorcan looks at Lily. “Do you think you know who did it?” he asks.

Lily hesitates for a moment.

“You do, don’t you? You heard something!” Hugo says. “Tell us!”

Lysander doesn’t say anything, but he does lean in a bit curiously.

“You know how some of the older Slytherins have started being really annoying?” Lily says.

Lysander and Hugo nod immediately. She’s filled them in on everything that happened: when a group of Slytherin sixth and seventh years had cornered her in the common room when she was alone and Lorcan was out at Gobstones Club, had sneered how can you be here after your scum father did what he did to us.

“I think it’s maybe some of them,” Lily says.

“Anna and the rest of her gang?” Lorcan says.

Lily wrinkles her nose at the mention of Anna. Anna Selwyn, the seventh-year head of the gang and the worst of them all. Lily’s only known her a few weeks, but she doesn’t like her one bit. Especially since she was the one who said the world would be a better place without Potters like you and your dad. “Yeah. Her. I just have to find a way to prove that it was her that did it.”

Lorcan raises his eyebrows at her. “How in the world are you going to do that?”

Lily just shrugs. Truth be told, she hasn’t figured that out yet, but she detests not having an answer to anything. “Maybe there’ll be some proof of what she did in her dormitory or something,” she says. As she says it, though, her eyes widen: it could work. It could definitely work. Surely, there’ll be something in her dormitory. Something that could prove Lily’s theory.

“Yeah?” Hugo says. “How will you get into her dorm? If she’s as bad as you say–”

“She is!” Lily protests hotly.

“Then she’ll probably be on the lookout for someone sneaking into her dorm, won’t she?” Hugo continues calmly. “How will you get in?”

Lily thinks about her brother and his Cloak, and a slow smile spreads onto her face. “I’ll think of something,” she says confidently.

*

Jamie’s only half-paying attention in Defence today. It’s been a week since Al and Rosie and Scorpius were attacked, and he still hasn’t figured out who did it. He hates the idea that whoever did it is roaming the school, completely unfazed by everything.

“We’re going to be practicing Boggarts today,” Harry says, making Jamie look up. “I was surprised, actually, that you haven’t covered them so far, so it’s good we’re getting them out of the way before moving to more advanced things–”

“Like Patronuses?” Danielle asks eagerly.

“Like Patronuses, yes,” Harry says. “Maybe some of you know what your Boggarts will be already–”

Jamie’s very grateful that his dad doesn’t look at him. He hasn’t told anyone except Freddie his Boggart is. He doesn’t like to think about it, and about what happened on the train, what happened with the Boggart before Al and the others were attacked. He knows what it’ll lead to, if he talks about it: everyone, even Leah and Danielle, will want to know more about it. And he can’t think about it. Even now, all he has to do is close his eyes and he’s back there, on the train.

“It’s a basic incantation,” his dad is saying, once he manages to pull himself together. “Very simple. What’s difficult — much like a Patronus — is the thought behind it. You need to look the Boggart in the eye as it becomes the thing you fear the most, and you need to be able to laugh at it. Everyone repeat after me: Riddikulus.” He waves his wand and Summons a cupboard from the back of the classroom, as the class dutifully repeats the incantation after him. It’s rattling eerily, and Jamie hates it already. He knows what’s lurking in there, and he’s starting to think that he hates Boggarts even more than Dementors.

“Easy,” Freddie says easily. “Should we form a line, Uncle Professor?”

Harry’s eyes twinkle as he looks at Freddie. “Yes. Form a line, please. James, since you’ve done your Boggart with me already, you can sit it out if you don’t want to do it again.”

“How did you get to do it before us?” Danielle demands, as the class gets up and starts shuffling away from their desks.

Jamie forces a casual shrug. “Pays to know the teacher,” he says, smirking at her.

Danielle rolls her eyes.

“You asked him if you could do it alone, didn’t you?” Leah, who’s always been far too astute, says.

“Maybe,” Jamie says, but he knows that Leah knows exactly why he did what he did. He’s never had to explain things like that to her. It’s maybe why he likes her as much as he does.

“Lucky,” Danielle says. “I have no idea what mine will even be.”

“I think my biggest fear is a Bludger bashing my face during a Quidditch game,” Leah muses. “But how would a Boggart transform into that?”

“Why are you even scared of that? You don’t even play Quidditch,” Jamie points out.

“You don’t know what it’s like when Leah and I sit and watch you lot play,” Freddie says. “Especially with the way Dani swings that Beater bat around. Anyone’d be scared of injury.”

“Oi,” Danielle says.

“Hurry up, you lot,” Jamie’s dad calls out to them, and Jamie retreats to the edge of the classroom, content to watch the others.

While he watches the others start to confront the Boggart — Dylan Corner, who’s at the front of the line, has his Boggart take the form of some sort of giant snake that has his father looking almost amused — he thinks about the past week. Whenever he’s seen Al, he’s looked upset and paler than usual, and Jamie knows that he’s been spending most of his time in the Hospital Wing with Scorpius, who’s just about starting to recover. Even his parents have been looking stressed out: every time he’s seen his mum and dad, in Defence classes, mealtimes, or flying practice, they’ve been looking worried. It doesn’t help that he has no idea who did it. He and Freddie have a pact: they’ve been practicing extra hard in Defence, and if they figure out who did it, they’re going to go confront them. They can’t risk someone hurting any of their family again — Scorpius included.

“James,” his father says, after Dylan’s managed to turn his snake into a jack-in-the-box (of all things, Jamie thinks, that’s maybe the stupidest thing to turn your Boggart into). “Come here a second. Dylan, great job! Allison, give it a go. Whenever you’re ready,” he adds encouragingly.

Jamie goes up to his dad. “What’s up, Dad?” he asks.

“Do me a favour, would you? Take that folder up to McGonagall’s office. I completely forgot,” his dad says. “And it’s a bit urgent.”

Jamie nods slowly, and grabs the folder, which is suspiciously blank (Jamie’s learned the hard way that his father knows how to make all his most exciting Auror and case-related folders appear blank unless the right person taps them with their wand).

When he leaves the room, annoyingly blank folder in hand, he’s surprised to see Lily lurking there, leaning against the wall with her eyes bright the way they are whenever she’s hiding something.

“What’re you up to, Lils?” he says suspiciously.

“Waiting for you,” Lily says, and gives him an angelic smile that Jamie thinks would maybe only work on their dad (and only if he’d had some Firewhiskey first to soften him up, to be honest).

“Class doesn’t end for an hour,” Jamie says.

“Never hurts to be early,” Lily says.

Jamie raises his eyebrows at her. “You’ve never been early a day in your life. We almost missed the damn Hogwarts Express because of you. What’s up? Spit it out, go on.”

Lily sighs, and then says, “Fine. I need to borrow your Cloak.”

Jamie frowns. “Why?”

Lily seems to decide something. “I think someone in Slytherin is behind the attack, and I need the Cloak to see if I’m right about her.”

Jamie only needs to think about it for a second. “A worthy cause,” he agrees and digs his Cloak out from an inner pocket of his robes — he’s taken to carrying it around, just in case. “But you’ve got to get it back to me soon, okay?”

Lily nods, all smiles, and bounds away down the corridor. Jamie frowns in concentration as he starts walking up to McGonagall’s office. Whatever’s going on, he thinks, he hopes that Lily finds a way to get a clue about what’s at the bottom of it.

*

“Do you trust me?” Albus mutters to Scorpius, at the Potter’s Army welcome party. Scorpius has only been discharged for less than a day, so Albus has been refusing to leave his side. He can’t risk it, he reasons.

“Course,” Scorpius says around a mouthful of cake. He’s been so happy since he got discharged, except for the periods where he’s overcome by exhaustion and has to sit down. Albus has been by his side through it. “Always trust you, Al,” Scorpius continues, once he swallows his cake. “What is it?”

“Follow me,” Albus says. He takes Scorpius’s elbow, and gently steers him to the edge of the room, where he’s spotted his sister talking to his parents.

“Ooh. Are we spying?” Scorpius asks.

“A little bit, yeah,” Albus says.

Scorpius grins and digs around in his pocket before he produces two Extendable Ears. “Here. Freddie sent me a basket of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes in the Hospital Wing, I thought these would be handy to keep.”

“They’re right here, Scorp, I don’t think we’ll need those,” Albus says, but he can’t hold back the fond smile as he looks at Scorpius.

“It never hurts to be prepared, does it?” Scorpius reasons.

“No, you’re right,” Albus agrees. Something about Scorpius always makes it impossible for him to be impatient about anything, makes him soft in a way that he can’t quite quantify or say. “I wish I had my brother’s Cloak,” he grumbles under his breath.

“I’ve always wanted one of my own,” Scorpius says, and then frowns. They’re standing close to each other, with Al’s back to his parents and Lily, so Scorpius is the only one who can see them. “Oh, no. They’re leaving the room.”

“Dad’s got an office, right next to this room. Probably going there,” Albus says.

He and Scorpius exchange a glance; Albus knows, without saying anything, that Scorpius is on the same page as him. Slowly, they both start walking towards the door, and Scorpius says, “Is this what it’s like, having siblings? Spying on each other all the time?”

“Remind me to tell you sometime about the time Lily stole my journal when she was six,” Albus mutters, accepting the Extendable Ear Scorpius hands to him.

He hears his mum’s voice through the Extendable Ear, clear as if she’s standing right next to him. “Lily, you’re sure you know who attacked them?”

Albus looks at Scorpius, his heart racing. They’re talking about him and Scorpius and Rose. They have to be.

“I think so,” Lily says in a small voice.

“How do you know?” that’s his dad, voice clear and not sounding scared at all. Albus doesn’t know how he does it. He doesn’t think he’d ever want to be an Auror.

“I think it’s Anna Selwyn,” Lily says confidently. “I don’t want to say how I know.”

“What makes you think that?” Albus’s dad says.

“I went to her dormitory,” Lily says. “And I saw a letter, on her bedside table. That she’d gotten from her parents.”

“She is such a sneak,” Albus whispers to Scorpius. He doesn’t know if he admires it or not.

“The letter said, I heard Malfoy’s boy got hurt. Good. They said it was good that Scorpius got hurt!” Lily says, indignant. “It was like they were proud of her for doing it, isn’t that disgusting?”

Albus looks at Scorpius, who looks pale.

“You don’t know if that means that–” his dad says, but Albus has heard enough. He tugs out the strings from the doorway, and leans over, taking Scorpius’s hand.

“I know Anna,” Scorpius whispers. “Her parents, I mean. They came over to tea with my mum a few years ago. You think they’re happy that I’m hurt?”

“I think…” Albus hesitates. “I don’t know, Scorp. Do you want to sit down?” Because Scorpius is starting to look pale again. He doesn’t object when Albus leads him to a nearby chair.

“You two don’t look very festive,” Jamie says, walking up to them with Freddie in tow.

“Yeah, it’s meant to be a party, you know,” Freddie says.

Albus looks around for a moment and says, “We overheard Lily talking to Mum and Dad.”

“Always got something to say, does our Lils,” Jamie says. “What did she say?”

“She thinks she knows who did it,” Scorpius says, very quietly.

“Who does she think it is?” Freddie asks, frowning.

“Anna Selwyn,” Albus whispers.

Jamie looks at Freddie. “Wasn’t she a Prefect?”

“Almost was Head Girl,” Freddie says.

“Which means she’d know her way around,” Jamie says slowly.  

“Yeah. And she’d have access to the Prefects’ patrolling schedule. She would know when the fourth-floor corridor would be empty,” Freddie says.

“Do you think we should…” Jamie trails off.

Freddie nods. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Definitely doesn’t,” Jamie says, and then looks at Albus and Scorpius. “You both should stay here and enjoy the party. We need to leave. If Dad asks, we left to go–”

“Study,” Freddie puts in. “We left to go study.”

“Wait,” Albus says. “Where are you going?”

Jamie ruffles Albus’s hair, and then grins at them. “We’re going to go confront Selwyn and her friends, of course,” he says. “Wish us luck.”

Back to index

Chapter 17: xvii

Author's Notes: so sorry for the delay! i hope all of you lovely people have been healthy and doing well :)

What with Scorpius finally being discharged from the hospital, Ginny was so sure that it was going to be a good day. Calm, even. Drama-free.

Clearly, she thinks as she looks at Lily, she had been deluded in that assumption. Lily, who’s looking up at them, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

“Apart from the letter,” Ginny says quietly, “do you have any proof at all, Lils? It’s a serious accusation to make.”

Lily puffs up her chest, standing straight with all the seriousness of an eleven-year-old – Merlin, she’s nearly twelve now. Where has the time gone? Ginny remembers when she first held Lily, when she first looked into her bright brown eyes. It feels like seconds ago, and yet, here she is, trying to solve Dark mysteries on her own. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?” she says, and then, looking right at Harry, “Is this how you treat other Aurors when they tell you their case leads, Dad?”

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“I’m telling you, she’s not innocent,” Lily insists. Her eyes are wide. “I know it’s Anna Selwyn. She’s awful. She and her gang, they always get up to something…”

“What sort of things do they get up to?” Harry says.

Ginny turns to look at Harry. His eyes are narrowed, behind his glasses, and his jaw is set, and then Ginny cottons on suddenly to what he’s thinking about. She’s arrived at the same conclusion herself.

“Is she the one who was bothering you?” she asks.

Lily’s blush is all the answer she needs. Which means that Anna Selwyn’s the one responsible for upsetting Lily so much the past few weeks. She thinks about Lily, about how she’d been – for once – on the verge of tears when she confided in Ginny about what the Slytherins had told her.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Harry says.

Lily’s jaw is set, stubborn. “I could handle it,” she says. Ginny suddenly thinks about Harry when he was fifteen, how he had refused to tell Dumbledore about Umbridge. Jamie and Al both have their days, but it’s Lily who’s inherited her father’s stubbornness – although Harry would probably say that she inherited it from Ginny herself.

There’s so much Ginny wants to say. The point of what they went through – Voldemort, the Death Eaters, all of it – is that none of their kids had to go through it. And here’s their youngest daughter, accusing a Slytherin daughter of a Death Eater of attacking her other child.

“Lily,” she says quietly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Lily says. “But that’s not the point. The point is that she did it. I know she did!”

“I’ll talk to her,” Harry says. His voice has gone quieter. Serious. His Auror voice.

“Don’t—” Lily starts to say, but then the door opens.

They’ve been standing in Harry’s office, adjoining his classroom. Ginny turns to look at the doorway: Danielle and Leah, both of their cheeks suspiciously flushed, are standing there.

“Oh—sorry, Professor Potter. And Coach Potter. Hi, Lily,” Leah says. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. I was sure Jamie would be here.”

“Isn’t he out there, with the others?” Ginny says.

“No, we lost track of him,” Danielle says. “We, er – well, Freddie showed me something from the shop, and I was showing Leah.”

Leah grins.

“And then we couldn’t find them. I thought they’d be here,” Danielle says.

“Yeah, I thought he’d be plotting something here with Freddie,” Leah says.

Ginny raises her eyebrows, and then looks past the girls, into the DADA classroom. She sees Albus and Scorpius. Scorpius is sitting in a chair, and Albus is standing next to him, looking shifty. She walks out and doesn’t have to turn to know Harry’s right next to her. “Hey, Al,” she says. “Any idea where your brother’s gotten off to?”

“Nope,” Albus says quickly. Too quickly. When Ginny looks at him, he’s smiling at her, the very picture of innocence. Scorpius, on the other hand, won’t look them in the eye.

“So if we were to leave, and find a certain Anna Selwyn, we wouldn’t find him?” Harry says.

Ginny puts the pieces together in a matter of seconds: either Jamie or Al (her bet’s on Al, based on his shifty expression) overheard Leah’s suspicions, and now Freddie and Jamie have gone to confront her. Going by Harry’s question, he’s arrived at the same conclusion as well.

“Anna Selwyn?” Leah repeats. “Has he gone after her?”

Scorpius’s eyes go wide. “Maybe,” he says in a small voice.

“Scorp!” Albus says.

“I only said maybe, I never said—” Scorpius says, but Ginny’s stopped paying attention, because Harry squeezes her hand.

“I’m going to go find them,” he murmurs to her.

Ginny nods. “Alright. I’ll stay with this lot,” she says. Much as she’d love to go with Harry, she knows the kind of havoc two Potter siblings can wreak when unsupervised. The last thing she needs is more chaos.

“I’ll come with you, Professor Potter,” Leah says. “I’d quite like to tell my boyfriend off for being an idiot.”

“You and me both, Leah,” Harry mutters. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”

*

Harry finds Jamie within minutes. It’s not hard: he and Leah start walking towards the Slytherin common room – Leah’s surprised that he knows where it is, but she doesn’t question it – and they find Jamie and Freddie in a passageway, along with a girl who Harry assumes is Anna. She doesn’t take Defence, so this is the first time Harry’s seeing her.

She’s tall, nearly as tall as Freddie, and her hair is a pale blond. She’s got red lipstick on, and she’s holding her wand in between her index and second finger. She’s also got a sneer on her face that instantly reminds Harry of a young Draco Malfoy, and Harry thinks he understands why Lily thought to accuse her. Jamie and Freddie seem to be quite heated up, but she lounges against the wall in an insouciant manner, looking as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“You know something, though,” Freddie’s saying, as Harry walks up to them, Leah following him. Freddie trails off, and the three of them turn to look at Harry: Freddie looking surprised, Jamie looking sheepish, and Anna looking more disdainful hhan ever. 

“Oh. Hi, Dad,” Jamie says.

“Funny seeing you here,” Freddie says.

“You idiots,” Leah says. “You absolute, complete idiots. What are you doing going off on your own?”

“Like we’ve never done that before,” Jamie points out.

“But that’s different,” Leah argues. “With everything that’s happened—”

Anna arches an eyebrow. “You sound scared,” she says.

“Maybe I just know what you and your lot are capable of, is all,” Leah says.

“What do you mean, my lot?” Anna says. She sounds angry.

Harry looks at her for a long moment. She looks him dead in the eyes, not looking away even for a moment. She’d be the very picture of defiance if it weren’t for the slight flicker in her eyes. Harry’s looked at scared people long enough to recognise one. He thinks about Dumbledore, talking to Draco on top of the Astronomy tower, and sighs internally.

“Jamie, Freddie. Get back to the Defence classroom,” he says. “Leah, you too.”

“Does that mean I’m free to go back to my common room?” Anna says.

“Of course,” Harry says. “But I’d like to talk to you first. Come with me.”

“Why can’t we come?” Jamie says indignantly. “It’s our friends she’s been getting to! And Freddie and Leah are Prefects, they should get to hear what’s going on, too!”

“Jamie,” Harry says, and looks at him.

Jamie deflates. “We never get to join the fun,” he mutters.

*

The party’s in the Defence classroom, and his office is far from private – as evidenced by Albus and Scorpius overhearing Lily’s talk with him and Ginny – so he leads Anna to a familiar office in the Dungeons. He remembers Occlumency lessons here with Snape, and suppresses a shudder at the thought. The office is less shadowy and miserable than he remembers, though, although it does have a portrait of Severus Snape behind the desk. He waves his wand, and the door closes with a click of the locks.

“What do you want to talk about?” Anna says sullenly.

Harry casts a wordless Imperturbable Charm on the door, ensuring no Extendible Ears will be able to listen in (since he highly doubts that Jamie, Freddie, or Leah are back in the Defence classroom now). “Have a seat,” he says.

Anna sits down on the other side of the desk. Instead of sitting behind the desk, Harry perches on the end of it, and looks at her.

“What?” Anna says again.

Harry’s been in interrogation rooms before. More often than he can count. He was present when Selwyn himself – who he assumes is Anna’s father – was interrogated. This isn’t an Auror interrogation, though. This is him, talking to a student as a Defence professor. So he’s not sure how to play this.

He decides to wait it out. He leans against the desk, and says, “Want a cup of tea?”

“What, so you can poison me or spike it with Veritaserum?” Anna says.

“So, no tea, then?” Harry says wryly. “I have no reason to poison you.”

Anna doesn’t say anything. And then: “Not even if you knew who my uncle is?”

Harry had been assuming that it was her father, but he supposes that makes sense: Selwyn, as far as he knows, is still in prison. “I know who your uncle is,” Harry says. “Voldemort used his wand to try and attack me, and then I assume he tortured him when it didn’t work.”

Anna flinches. “He’s in Azkaban,” she says. “Still. Life sentence.”

“Well, he used enough Unforgivables to fill up a novel,” Harry says. “And he worked for Voldemort. Plenty of evidence against him.”

“Which you would know about. You testified against him, my dad says,” Anna says. “Says you personally ensured he got sent to prison.”

“Yeah?” Harry says mildly. “What else does your dad say?”

“He says that the world would be better without any Potters in it,” Anna says.

Harry thinks about Ginny telling him that Lily was upset about a group of older Slytherins, a group who told her the world would be better if she hadn’t been born. “Something you were happy to repeat to Lily,” he says.

Anna examines her fingernails. “Wasn’t just me who said that,” she says.

Which isn’t a denial. Harry decides to try a different tactic. “So,” he says, “do you parrot everything your dad says, or just that?”

That gets to Anna, enough to get her to look up at him. “I don’t parrot everything he says!” she says. “It’s true. You did send my uncle to prison!”

“I didn’t. The Ministry did. But even if I did. Do you wish I hadn’t?” Harry says. “Do you wish they were all still out, murdering Muggles and Muggleborns and whoever disagrees with them?”

Anna flushes. “I never said that,” she mumbles.

“So you don’t agree with the Death Eaters?” Harry says. “You’re old enough to think for yourself, you know.”

Anna doesn’t say anything. And then it all bursts out of her, all at once. “I know most of them are full of shit. The blood purity thing… it’s bullshit. And I know most of them did terrible things,” she says. She’s talking faster than usual now.

Harry arches an eyebrow at her. “Right. They did,” he agrees. “Worse things than you can imagine, probably.”

“But all of them, they’re my friends. My family,” Anna says.

“I know,” Harry says, and leaves it at that. 

“I know why you’re talking to me,” Anna says, after a moment. “You think I did it. That I attacked Potter and Granger-Weasley and Scorpius.”

Scorpius, Harry notes, doesn’t seem to go by his last name when it comes to Anna. “Did you?” he says.

“No,” Anna says.

“But you know who did,” Harry says. It’s not a question, but Anna doesn’t deny it. “They attacked Scorpius,” he says quietly. “You must know him. His dad knew yours, at any rate.”

Anna flinches, and then does her best to cover it up. “I’ve met him once or twice,” she says.

“He spent two weeks in the Hospital Wing,” Harry says. “Could’ve been longer, if I didn’t get to him in time. And if I got to him too late…” he leaves it hanging for a moment. “Are those the friends you want, the kind of people who would do that?”

“Some people would say I’m just as bad as them,” Anna says. “Worse, even. Your daughter’d probably say that.”

“Maybe,” Harry says. “But you’re an adult now. You get to decide if you want to be better, or not.”

“Do I have a choice?” Anna says bitterly.

Harry thinks about who this office used to belong to. He looks her in the eye and says, “You always do.”

Anna looks down at her lap and then finally says, quietly, “It’s not just them.”

“What do you mean?” Harry says.

“It’s not just my… my friends. It’s their parents. My parents, too. All of them,” Anna says. “They’re all after you, Professor Potter. They’re after all the Potters.”

Back to index

Chapter 18: xviii.

Author's Notes: sorry for the delay :) thank you all for being so patient x

It’s early in the morning; the day’s barely begun, but Harry’s already tired as he walks to the Defence classroom on Monday morning. He’s barely slept the last two nights, too worried about what Anna told him and everything else that’s been going on. Ginny’s walking with him, telling him about Ravenclaw’s Quidditch practice yesterday.

“They need to work on Chasing,” she says, “but they’re already showing improvement. What I’m worried about is the Beaters, because—what are you two doing here?” She addresses this last question to Jamie and Freddie, who are waiting outside the door. Harry’s too exhausted to even be surprised by them. Both of them are looking at him and Ginny with bright eyes and expectant expressions.

“We’ve got class,” Jamie says innocently.

Harry checks the battered watch on his wrist. “Class isn’t for ten minutes, Jamie.”

“It never hurts to be early,” Freddie puts in. “Sets a good example.”

“Exactly. It’s his job as a Prefect to set a good example, you know,” Jamie says.

“And it’s his job to support me in that endeavour,” Freddie adds.

“And I like to think I’m a good friend,” Jamie says.

“The best,” Freddie agrees.

“Why don’t you both come in,” Harry says, “and tell me what this is really about?”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about—” Jamie says.

“But we’re happy to come in, thanks,” Freddie finishes, leaning over to open the door to the classroom. In a flash, Freddie and Jamie have walked inside the classroom, leaving Harry and Ginny in the doorway.

“Do you want to come in, too, Gin?” he asks hopefully.

Ginny leans up on her tiptoes and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Course. You look like too much of a mess to deal with this alone.”

“What would I do without you?” Harry says dryly, but he tugs Ginny in with an arm around her waist and kisses her properly. For a blissful moment, he lets himself get lost in it, but then he hears Jamie clear his throat and he’s pulled back to reality.

Ginny’s cheeks are slightly flushed when she looks up at him, but that’s the only sign she’s flustered at all. “Come on, Potter,” she says, slipping her warm hand into his and tugging him into the classroom. “Alright, you two,” she says to Jamie and Freddie, perching on Harry’s desk and looking entirely as if she belongs there, “what’s going on?”

“Who says anything’s going on?” Freddie says. “We just wanted to ask how you both were doing.”

Harry raises an eyebrow and waits.

“Although, now that we’re talking,” Jamie continues, and Harry thinks there it is. “How did your talk with Anna go, Dad?”

Harry considers it for a moment and leans against his desk. “About as well as it could’ve gone, I suppose.”

“By which he means that the Death Eaters and their children are after the Potters and their friends and family,” Ginny says, and then shrugs and adds, “So, you know. The usual. Nothing new there. Nothing we haven’t handled before.”

When Harry glances at her, her jaw is set in determination and her eyes are fierce. He loves her so much it hurts sometimes.

“Right,” Freddie says. “It’s just, well…”

“Freddie and I spoke, yesterday,” Jamie says.

“And we decided to have a little chat with her ourselves,” Freddie says.

“You confronted her, again? Seriously?” Ginny says.  

“In our defence,” Jamie says, “we never got to finish our first conversation with her, did we?”

Harry looks at them for a long moment. “What sort of chat, did we have?”

“Well, we wanted to tell her to stop bothering Lils, for one,” Jamie says. “Just, you know, a casual reminder. We didn’t get around to telling her that on Friday.”

“We know that she and her gang have been the ones who have been bothering her. And Lorcan and Lysander, too,” Freddie adds fairly.

“And Lily thinks she’s the one who attacked Scorpius,” Jamie says. “Lils isn’t stupid. If she thinks that, there’s got to be a reason.”

“She didn’t do it,” Harry says. If nothing else, his chat with Anna convinced him that she didn’t do it: or, at the very least, that she didn’t attack Scorpius. He’s still not sure about the rest.

“We know, Dad,” Jamie says. “We figured that out when we first spoke to her. So we went to speak to her again. She knows more than she’s letting on.”

Harry figured that much out, too, so he waits.

“To be fair, she’s not that bad, actually,” Freddie says, “once you get her away from her, you know.”

“Her snakey friends,” Jamie says helpfully.

“Exactly,” Freddie says. “You know Goyle?”

Harry frowns. “Yeah, he was at school with us. Was a good friend of Malfoy.”

“Not that Goyle,” Jamie says impatiently. “His son. You know, Nigel Goyle. He’s dating Anna.”

“They broke up a while back,” Freddie corrects Jamie.

Jamie snorts. “You’ve been paying attention, haven’t you?”

“Anyway. He doesn’t take Defence and isn’t on the Quidditch team, so you both probably don’t know him too well,” Freddie tells Harry and Ginny, ignoring Jamie. “But apparently, his dad had a falling out with Scorpius’s dad a while ago. And it got really ugly.”

“What sort of falling out?” Ginny asks.

“A bad falling out. Anna didn’t get into the details. She just sort of let it slip,” Freddie says.

Harry frowns as he thinks about it. The way Anna didn’t want to reveal who attacked Scorpius, the way he suspected that Scorpius was being targeted. It does make sense, he has to admit. Malfoy and Goyle were close in school, but after everything that happened during the way, he supposes it makes sense that they could’ve had a falling out. And Goyle was always the sort of person who never minded using Unforgiveable curses…

“Right,” he says slowly. He glances up at the door; students are starting to line up outside the classroom, in time for the morning’s lesson, even though it doesn’t start for a few minutes. “Jamie, Freddie, go tell them to come in, please,” he says.

“We’ll talk about it after class, then?” Jamie says.

“Works for me,” Freddie agrees, and walks with Jamie to the door.

Harry turns to look at Ginny. She looks just as worried as he feels.

“Do you think he did it?” Ginny asks him as she hops off the desk and gets to her feet again.

“I think,” Harry says, and then pauses long enough to sigh. “Merlin, Gin. I think we’re going to have to talk to Malfoy. Again.”

*

On Wednesday afternoon, the fireplace in Harry’s office turns emerald green. Harry’s sitting at his desk, reading through the second years’ latest homework assignment – half a roll of parchment on the subject of the most useful Defensive jinxes, in their opinion, and why – and he notices it from the corner of his eye.

His fireplace is enchanted to only allow certain people in by Floo: Ron, Hermione, Teddy, and – as of the last two days, ever since he sent the letter – Draco Malfoy. No one’s written to him or given him any notice before arriving, which means it can only be one person.

“Hi, Malfoy. Come sit down, would you?” he says tiredly, setting his quill down and looking up.

Draco Malfoy brushes soot off his robes – which are a shade of light blue Harry dislikes immediately – and looks at Harry, his expression set in a weak approximation of his trademark sneer. “Hello, Potter. Where’s my son?”

“I have no idea,” Harry says.

“I thought you were meant to be keeping an eye on him,” Malfoy says, striding over to his desk.

“Well – yes, but that doesn’t mean I monitor his every waking second, does it?” Harry points out. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What did you want to talk to me about, then?”

“Goyle.”

Malfoy blinks. “What?”

“You heard me,” Harry says. “Is it true you had a falling out with him recently?”

“Not recently, really. It was long overdue, I’d say,” Malfoy says, wrinkling his nose.

“Tell me about it,” Harry says.

“Why?”

There’s no point in lying or hiding anything, so Harry says, “Because it could help me prove who hurt Scorpius.”

Malfoy hesitates, and then starts to talk. “He was always an idiot, really. It only got worse after…”

“The war?”

Malfoy nods. “Astoria was right about him. She says he was always… well. It all came to a head last year.”

“What happened?” Harry says.

“Goyle showed up unannounced at my house, around a year ago –”

“Just like you showed up unannounced here,” Harry can’t help saying.

Malfoy glares. “You asked me to come, Potter,” he points out.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Go on,” is all he says.

“Goyle showed up unannounced at my house. It was just before Scorpius began his second year, during the summer. Albus was with him when he opened the door – he was visiting at the time, I believe,” Malfoy says. “And Gregory… Goyle was drunk, and he lost his temper. He seemed to think that I was betraying my friends, and family, by allowing my son to befriend… your son. Called me a blood traitor, if you can believe it.”

Harry can definitely believe it: it sounds like something that would come out of Gregory Goyle’s mouth. He supposes he can see why that would be the tipping point, why that would encourage Goyle’s son, and his friends, to target Scorpius, if they think of him as belonging to a blood traitor family.

“We haven’t exactly been on the best terms ever since,” Malfoy continues. “Do you think he’s the one who hurt Scorpius?” Malfoy asks, suddenly looking furious.

“Not him, no. But his son, Nigel… I don’t know for sure,” Harry says. “But I’m going to find out.”

The fireplace turns green again, and both Harry and Malfoy turn to look at it. A violet-haired boy steps out, sneezing.

“I keep forgetting how much bloody soot gets in these fireplaces,” Teddy mutters, and then looks up. “Oh. Hi, Harry. I didn’t know you were busy.”

“What’s wrong, Teddy?” Harry says. His mind immediately goes to the worst possible place: another attack, Teddy’s been hurt…  

“It’s nothing bad,” Teddy says, and then grins. “Actually, it’s good. Vic and I were in the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, and I overheard something… anyway, long story short… I think I have a lead in the case.”

“About Scorpius?” Malfoy says.

Teddy blinks. He seems to properly register Malfoy’s presence only then. “Oh, uh. No, Mr. Malfoy, sorry.”

Harry glances at Malfoy. “I think you might be able to find Scorpius in the Ravenclaw common room,” he says mildly.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and gets to his feet. “You’ll tell me if you find out anything else?” he says.

“I will,” Harry says.

Malfoy nods curtly. Once he leaves, Teddy takes the seat Malfoy was sitting in. “What I meant was … you know, the graffiti I found?” he says to Harry.

“Course I remember,” Harry says. He thinks about the picture Teddy showed him, the picture he’s still got in the drawer of the desk The Real Darkness, outside the Leaky Cauldron, along with a picture of him. It’s not exactly easy to forget.

“Well, we were at the Leaky Cauldron, and guess who was eating next to us?” Before Harry can guess, Teddy continues. “Rita Avery. I recognised her because she was a year above me at school. Anyway, she was talking to someone, and I overheard her saying, we can get more people to see it our way, especially if you keep up the drawings. Surely she was talking about the graffiti, wasn’t she?”

Harry nods slowly. “It does seem like that, yes,” he says. If Nigel attacked Goyle because of his father, then it stands to reason that Rita Avery’s been influenced by her family, too. Goyle’s always been a follower: first he followed Malfoys, and then the Carrows. If he’s acting out now, enough to influence his son to attack Scorpius, then he’s sure as hell not acting alone: he’s following someone, someone who’s behind the Dementor attacks and everything else that has happened.

Rita Avery.

He remembers the trial of Avery – Rita’s father. He thinks about a memory in a Pensieve, his mother telling Severus Snape that Avery and Mulciber’s idea of humour is evil. If anyone’s capable of allying with Dementors…

“Teddy,” he says, “I need you to go back to the Ministry. Get me the arrest records of Avery. Rita’s father. Him and Mulciber, too. I want to find out when Avery was released from Azkaban, and if Mulciber’s out or not.”

“Why?” Teddy says, already getting to his feet.

“Because, if I’m right,” Harry says grimly, “then we’re all in even more danger than I thought.”

Back to index

Chapter 19: xix

Half an hour after Teddy Floos to the Ministry, Harry decides to make his way to his and Ginny’s quarters. He wants a cup of tea – and, honestly, the chance to talk about all of this with Ginny – and Teddy will know where to find him when he comes back. When he walks in, completely exhausted, he pauses at the sight before him: all three of his children, sprawled across the sofa. Lily’s lying on the sofa, with her legs propped up in Jamie’s lap, and Albus is curled up in the corner, cradling a steaming cup.

“Hi, Dad! There’s a Potter family meeting going on,” Lily explains, grinning up at him. “We were just about to come get you.”

“Well, I’m honoured to be invited,” Harry says dryly.

“Scorpius is with his dad,” Jamie says. “And Lils and I found Al moping, so we thought we’d bring him here.”

“It was my idea,” Lily says.

“I wasn’t moping!” Albus says at the same time.

“You looked a bit mopey, love,” Ginny puts in as she walks out from the bedroom, holding her journal. “Hi,” she adds to Harry, going up on her tiptoes and kissing him.

“You just saw each other barely five minutes ago, do you have to do that?” Al grumbles.

Harry pulls away from the kiss reluctantly.

“We don’t have to, no, but it’s fun,” Ginny says, and slips her free hand into Harry’s. “Want a cup of tea?” she asks.

“Merlin, yes,” Harry says. He steps over to the armchair, but before he can sit down, a silver-white wolf materialises in front of him all of a sudden.

“Isn’t that Teddy’s Patronus?” Jamie says.

The Patronus speaks in Teddy’s voice:

“Be there soon, ran into a delay.”

“What could that mean?” Jamie asks immediately.

“Think it means just what he said, Jamie,” Ginny says, waving her wand. A cup flies towards Harry, and he catches it just before boiling hot tea can spill into his lap.

“What sort of delay, though?” Lily says.

Even Al looks curious. “Maybe it’s—” he starts to say, but a knock at the door cuts him off.

Harry points his wand at the door. It swings open, and Draco Malfoy and Scorpius walk in.

Albus visibly lights up, and jumps to his feet, off the sofa. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Scorpius says, looking just as happy as he hurries over to join Albus.

“Merlin’s sake, he’s only been gone an hour,” Jamie mutters.

“Potter,” Malfoy says, inclining his head. “McGonagall told me to use your fireplace to leave. Will you let me know if you find out anything more?”

Harry nods. “Will you let me know if you hear from… any of your old pals?” It’s mostly Goyle Harry’s interested in, but at this point, he’ll take any information he can get, especially after what Teddy told him about Rita Avery, what he suspects about Mulciber…

“They’re not my old pals, Potter,” Malfoy says.

“To be fair, though, you know what he means,” Ginny says.

Malfoy’s scowl fades a bit, and he nods curtly. “I’ll be in touch,” he says. He paused to ruffle Scorpius’s blond hair – “Dad,” Scorpius says, but looks a bit pleased – and then walks to the fireplace, disappeared in an emerald flash.

“What did you mean?” Jamie asks.

Harry turns to look at him. “Hmm?”

“When you asked Mr. Malfoy about his old pals, what did you mean?” Jamie presses on.

Harry glances at Scorpius briefly, and then says, “It’s not important.”

Jamie opens his mouth to protest, but Harry gives him a warning look and he falls silent. Harry has a feeling that it’s definitely not the last of Jamie interrogating him about it, though.

“Is it about who—who did it?” Scorpius asks in a small voice. He’s sat down on the sofa next to Albus. “Do you think a friend of my dad’s did it?”

“Not exactly,” Harry says, and pauses. “Why, do you think so?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “No, my dad’s friends are nice. They wouldn’t. But… the voices did seem familiar, don’t you think?” he asks Albus.

“I didn’t recognise them,” Albus admits. “I’ve talked to Rosie, she’s said she didn’t recognise them, either.”

Scorpius looks thoughtful.

Albus looks at Harry. “You know who it is, don’t you?” he asks. He doesn’t look accusatory, not really, but the look he affixes Harry with makes him seem – almost like his namesake – like he can see right through Harry, right down to what he’s thinking.

“I think I do, yes,” Harry says after a moment. “But we know that it was more than one person. So I don’t want to get ahead of myself—”

“Was it Anna?” Lily says.

“No,” Harry says. “It wasn’t. I’ve spoken to her – so has Jamie—”

“And Freddie,” Jamie says fairly. “Actually, I think Freddie has a crush on her.”

Lily wrinkles her nose. “He couldn’t find anyone better?”

“Lily, promise me you are not going to go yell at Freddie about his taste in girls,” Ginny says.

“I can’t promise that, Mum!” Lily says.

“Lily Luna Potter—”

“She’s awful, she’s a bully!”

“She’s not that bad, really, her friends are way worse,” Jamie puts in.

“I don’t think she’s as bad as her friends. Nigel Goyle, he’s the worst,” Al says.

“Wait… Nigel…” Scorpius says, narrowing his eyes.

“Harry?”

That’s a new voice, Harry notes, and turns around. Stepping out of the fireplace, looking pale and sandy-haired, is Teddy. He didn’t notice him Floo in amidst all the commotion.

“Teddy!” Jamie says happily.

Teddy gives the others a small wave and then says, to Harry, “Can I talk to you a minute? It’s really important.”

*

“It’s just,” Teddy says, once Harry’s shown him into the tiny bedroom he and Ginny are sharing in their quarters, “I don’t know who else I can talk to about this.”

“About the arrest records?” Harry asks, confused, and moves to close the door behind them.

“About the—oh, no, not those,” Teddy says. “I, er. I didn’t bring those.”

Harry raises his eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” Teddy says, looking sheepish. “I was going to, but. I got distracted when I got to the Ministry.”

Harry perches on the end of the bed and waits. “Okay,” he says slowly. Teddy’s not the distracted sort, not ever, especially not about something as serious as this. Which means whatever’s happened, whatever was enough to distract Teddy, it’s serious.

Teddy doesn’t sit down. Instead, he paces up and down, from the doorway to the wall and back again. Harry watches him, bemused. He can’t discern the expression on Teddy’s face, and it’s worrying him. The last time Teddy was this upset, it was because he and Jamie had broken Ginny’s favourite teacup, past the point of a Reparo, and they were asking his advice on how to make it up to her. That was years ago, though, and Harry can’t think of what Teddy could have possibly done this time. Broken something in the Ministry, maybe? Wrecked something in the Auror department?

“Teddy, if you did something… whatever it is, mate, we can talk about it,” Harry says slowly. Whatever it is, he doesn’t even care. Messes can be cleaned up, but he can’t have Teddy being this upset.

Teddy looks at him then, and his eyes – just like Remus Lupin’s, Harry thinks with a pang – are wide and earnest. “It’s just… well… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Harry says slowly.

“When did you first know that you wanted to propose to Ginny?”

Harry blinks. He was expecting a lot of questions, but not that. “Oh. Er…”

“It’s just,” Teddy continues, “I met Vic, at the Ministry. In the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“What was she doing there?” Harry can’t help but wonder.

“Waiting for me,” Teddy says. “She had to tell me something.”

“Alright,” Harry says. He can’t see where this is going, but he knows what Teddy’s like, and he has to just wait it out until Teddy gets to the point.

“She, um.” Teddy blushes, enough that his hair goes red, too. “Well… it’s a long story, but. We, uh. We thought that maybe she was pregnant. But she checked at Mungo’s today, and… she isn’t.”

“Oh. Oh. Is that… good?” Harry asks. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so uncertain about a conversation before. He’s terrified of saying something wrong, somehow, but he’s got no idea what to respond. Luckily, Teddy doesn’t seem to mind.

“She thinks so,” Teddy says. “She’s proper relieved. We only moved in together a while ago, and… the timing’s not great, is it? She’s only going to graduate from being a trainee to being a Healer next year, and I’m transferring to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so we’re both busy with work, and we will be for quite a while. Plus, we’re not married. And Bill would kill me.”

“Well… yeah, it’d be pretty inconvenient timing,” Harry says.

“But I was going to propose,” Teddy says, raking his hands through his (now red) hair. “When she told me yesterday, that she might be, I thought about it. I had a plan, and everything. And now that she’s not… well…”

Harry thinks he understands, then, what Teddy’s really asking him. “Are you disappointed?”

“If I were, wouldn’t that be awful to say?” Teddy says. “She doesn’t want a kid right now. And I don’t think I do, either. Not now. But… I thought, if she was pregnant, we could get married. Get a bigger house, maybe, not just a flat. Maybe move to Grimmauld Place. And now… now, we’ve got to just going back to how we were, we can’t do any of those things…”

“Teddy, you can still do all those things,” Harry says.

Teddy doesn’t say anything, but he does sit down next to Harry. Harry rests his hand on Teddy’s shoulder, and Teddy leans into the touch. Harry remembers the first time he properly met Teddy, with Ginny, how Teddy was still a baby, barely a few months old, how he had looked up at Harry with big brown eyes, how Harry had thought I am going to do my best to make the world a good world for you.

“I reckon I always knew, with Ginny,” Harry says quietly. “It wasn’t a sudden moment, you know? I thought I couldn’t be with her, at first. And then we were done, the war was over, and I could be with her without worrying, and it was… good. Better than good. And then we were together, and we moved in together after she finished up with Hogwarts, and then I think I just realised one day what I’d always known.”

Teddy nods slowly. “Yeah. I think I know what you mean,” he says. “Do you, er. Do you think Ginny would agree to come shopping for rings with me?”

“Of course she would. I think you’d make her day,” Harry says.

Teddy grins. “Alright, then. I’ll ask her.”

“Good,” Harry says, and then gets up. “Come on, then.”

“Where are we going?” Teddy says.

“Back to the Ministry,” Harry says. “Well, that’s where I’m going, at any rate. Do you want to come, too?”

“Oh, right, yeah. Of course. The arrest records,” Teddy says. “I really am sorry about that. I was going to go back for them, but then – but then Vic started talking to me, and I just had to come talk to you.”

Harry bites back a grin, patting Teddy on the back. “I’m glad you did. Come on. Let’s go catch some Death Eaters before you plan a proposal.”

*

They don’t catch Death Eaters. What they do, once they arrive at at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement long after everyone’s left the Ministry, is sit at Teddy’s desk. Harry’s old office is now Padma Patil’s, so he doesn’t feel comfortable going in there, but Teddy’s desk is tiny, and quite cramped with both of them.

“Right, okay. Here it is. Avery was arrested with Mulciber, years ago. He got out last year,” Harry says, sitting back in the armchair he’s Summoned from the break room. They’ve gotten out Avery’s records, and it only confirms what they already knew: Avery got out of Azkaban last year, let out early on good behaviour. (The idea of which makes Harry snort now.) “In August,” he adds, setting aside the parchment that confirms his release.

“Wait, hang on… that was when the first graffiti incident happened, too,” Teddy says. He points his wand at Dawlish’s desk and says, “At least I think so. Wait, hang on – Accio! Look, look at this.” He hands Harry the file he’s just Summoned. “I had a look at the records that Dawlish has—”

“Snooped through his desk, you mean?” Harry says.

Teddy shrugs, completely unrepentant. “A little bit. And looked at the files from the archives. I looked for all possible links to our case, and I think I found something. Look at this. The eighteen of August, last year.”

Harry opens the case file up. There’s a picture, right at the front, in black and white: graffiti, at what seems to be a train station. It’s a picture of a skull: no snake, no glasses or scar, no text saying The Real Darkness, but undeniably familiar.

“Doesn’t it look like Rita Avery’s work?” Teddy says excitedly.

“It does,” Harry says, frowning. “Why was this reported last year? It’s just a bit of graffiti, why’s it in the Auror archives? Did Dawlish think this was connected to the Averys?” Before Teddy can answer, he taps the picture with his wand absentmindedly. Nothing happens: a still picture, then, not a moving one.

“Well, I think someone panicked about how similar it looked to the Dark Mark, and reported it in. Dawlish sent an Auror to look at it,” Teddy reports.

“He should’ve told me about it,” Harry mutters, but he’s unsurprised that he didn’t. During his time as Head of the Auror Office, he had to get quite used to Dawlish doing what he wants without running every move past him. “Who did he send to look at it?” he asks,

“Zara Khan,” Teddy says. “I asked her about it, when I read the file. She said it was her first assignment after graduating Auror training. She thought the resemblance was just coincidental.”

“And of course, Dawlish just took her word,” Harry says, sighing, and turns the page to see the report. He scans it quickly: it lines up with what Teddy’s said, even ends with a neat little Case closed. He closes the file and sets it on the desk with an unceremonious thud.

So. If they’re right, and this graffiti is the work of Rita Avery, then it stands to reason that it was prompted by Avery returning home from Azkaban. Avery got back last year, and said something to Rita, enough that she began experimenting with graffiti. And then, somehow, that led to someone sending Dementors to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, to Nigel Goyle and his friends potentially attacking Scorpius.

Harry gets up and brushes off his robes. “Right. And Mulciber’s arrest records?” he asks. It’s his turn to start pacing, but he makes sure to stay within earshot of Teddy, as Teddy gets out Mulciber’s file to consult it.

“He’s still in Azkaban,” Teddy confirms. “Hasn’t been let out on good behaviour.”

Harry walks over to Teddy, his heart sinking as something occurs to him. “Right. Well… alright. I think you should go home, Teddy.”

“Wait. What?” Teddy says, frowning. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Harry says. “Good job today, really. But the Department of Magical Law Enforcement only has the arrest reports. What we don’t have is the visitation records of people in Azkaban, of who visits them.”

“So?” Teddy says.

“So,” Harry says grimly, “I need more information. Avery got out, but there’s no way he didn’t stay in contact with his old pals, like Mulciber. Especially if he’s passionate enough to spread his ideas to his daughter. But the only way I can confirm that is by looking at the visitation records.”

“Wait,” Teddy says. “So that means…”

Harry nods. “That means,” he says, “that I’m going to have to go to Azkaban.”

Back to index

Chapter 20: xx

Author's Notes: only one or two chapters left in this! as always, let me know what you think :)

The Dementors haven’t been there for years, but Harry still really, really, fucking hates Azkaban.

He Apparates to the mainland, right on the edge of the sea, and if he squints, he can see the silhouette of the island, a dark spot on the dark horizon. To make things even better, it seems like it’s going to rain.

He doesn’t have anyone with him, Aurors or otherwise. It’s usually protocol: no one visits Azkaban alone, not without Auror backup. Even visitors have guards and escorts in addition to the guards inside the prison.

He finds the boats easily enough. It’s been years, but Azkaban isn’t the sort of thing he thinks he can ever forget. Once he finds the boats, he sits down on the bench, takes out his wand, and waits.

It takes less than five minutes before he hears the small pop that can only mean someone’s Apparated next to him. “Took you long enough,” he says.

“I would have gotten here faster, but Teddy was delayed on his way over,” says a familiar voice.

Harry turns and grins at Hermione. Ron’s standing next to her, looking disgruntled and wearing his Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes robes. “How necessary is Azkaban, mate?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

“Very necessary,” Harry says. “I didn’t know you’d show up, too.”

“Of course we came,” Hermione says.

“I was visiting Hermione in her office when Teddy showed up,” Ron says. “He said you’re going to Azkaban to see Mulciber – is that true?”

Harry nods.

Ron looks at him for a moment, and then nods as well. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

Harry won’t admit it, but there’s a reason he sat here and waited. He’s a grown man, but the idea of strolling into Azkaban sends shivers down his spine, and he feels much better now that he knows he’s going in with Ron and Hermione. He’d been counting on Hermione to show up – despite being Minister, no matter how busy she’s gotten, she’s made it a point of making sure he never goes to Azkaban alone, especially after how he reacted the first time he had a shift there as an Auror – but Ron is an added bonus, and he feels lighter seeing them both standing there.

“I’ll get us a boat,” Ron continues, and goes to speak to the wizard in charge of ferrying people to and from the mainland and Azkaban.

“So,” says Hermione. “Why didn’t you take Teddy with you?”

“Why didn’t I take my godson to one of the worst places on the planet, you mean?” Harry says, disbelieving.

“He’s transferring to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Hermione says. “He’s even talked about formally training to be an Auror. It’s inevitable that he would have to take an Azkaban shift sooner or later, don’t you think?”

Harry shakes his head. “Maybe,” he concedes. “I’m trying not to think about that too much, though.”

“You can’t protect all of them from everything, you know,” Hermione says quietly.

“Maybe,” Harry concedes. “Doesn’t mean that I’m not going to try my damned best, though.”

“Come on,” Ron calls out, and Hermione gives him a sad smile before she leads them over to where Ron’s got their boat ready.

*

“So, visitor records, you said?” Hermione says, once they’re in Azkaban. It’s as grey and foreboding as ever, and the absence of Dementors does not, in any way, serve to make Harry feel any better. They’re not even in the prison yet, not really, but it’s as if the very island exudes a malevolent energy.

“Yes,” Harry says.

“That won’t be enough,” Ron says. “You know that, right?”

Harry sighs. “Yeah.”

“Which means…”

“Yeah,” Harry says again. They’ll have to speak to Mulciber to confirm anything they find. It’ll have to be a proper interrogation, the kind he hasn’t done in ages: being the Head of the Auror Department doesn’t allow for the opportunity for too much interrogation or fieldwork. Nor does being the Defence Professor at Hogwarts.

“Want some company?” Ron offers.

“Merlin, yes,” Harry says. He doesn’t waste a moment on hesitation. It’s been years – decades, since before Rosie was born – since Ron joined him in an interrogation. Everything is easier with him: all these years, and Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever find a better partner.

“I can get the records and join you,” Hermione offers, but it’s half-hearted at best. She’s never liked this part of it, which is why she’s always stayed well away from the Auror Department. She prefers to stay on the legal side of it, drafting laws and making the wizarding world a better place for all of them.

“Actually,” Harry says. “I think we should all look at the records first. Then we’ll know what to ask Mulciber about. But you don’t need and come talk to him with us, if you don’t want to,” he adds, when he sees the look on Hermione’s face.

“Besides, you’ve got pretty important Minister for Magic things to do, don’t you?” Ron teases her.

Hermione visibly relaxes. “Oh, good.” She leads them to the records room, and Harry and Ron sit down as she fetches the file on Mulciber.

“The guard who gave it to me… she told me that it’s quite gory,” Hermione says when she returns, sitting down at their table.

“Wonder what it’d be like to have to know about gory things?” Harry says dryly.

Ron snorts, and even Hermione smiles. “Come on. The quicker we start this, the quicker we can get it over with.”

Hermione spreads out the contents of the files, handing pieces of parchment to Ron and Harry. “There. That’s his visitor record,” she says, handing it to Ron as she does, “and that’s the complaints the guards have about him.” She hands Harry a significantly thicker sheaf of parchment.

“Blimey,” Ron mutters, scanning the piece. “You’re right, Harry. Goyle’s visited him a few times, the git. Not as often as Avery, though. He’s been visiting him at least once a month since last August.”

“That’s when Avery got let off,” Harry says. “Last August.”

Ron shows Harry the list of visitation dates. “Hey, look at this. The last visit was a couple of days before Scorpius, Al, and Rosie were attacked,” he says.

Harry frowns. “Which means that it’s possible that Avery and Mulciber gave the orders for that. Especially since they were Death Eater pals.”

“And they were cell mates at Azkaban,” Hermione puts in, not looking up from the parchment she’s looking at.

“Gives them lots of time to plot,” Ron says.

Harry nods in agreement. “Right. Let’s go talk to him,” he decides.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come?” Hermione says.

Ron leans forward, kisses her cheek. “We’ll be fine,” he assures her.

“I know,” Hermione says. “But… you’ll call me if you need me?”

Harry smiles. “Yes, Minister,” he teases, and then accepts her hug before she rushes off to the records room.

*

The visitors’ room is miserable, just as miserable as the rest of the prison.

“We don’t allow visitors at this hour. It’s only on specific days, twice a month,” the guard tells Harry and Ron when they walk in.

Harry doesn’t like using his name. He hates it. He hates the looks, the way people look at his scar – even now, even after all these years – and he hates the attention. He’s not too fond of using his position as the Head of the Auror Department (former head, he corrects himself), either.

Which is why all he does now does is arch an eyebrow. The guard is sitting down at the entrance; she doesn’t look up at them, doesn’t so much as wait for either of them to say anything before she speaks.

“Unless you’re from the Auror Department,” the guard continues. “Are you?”

Harry considers it, and says, “In a way, yes.”

The guard looks up, and her eyes go wide in recognition. Before she can say anything else, another guard – a man Harry vaguely recognises – comes rushing in and says, “Lucy, the Minister’s here, along with—oh.”

“Hi, Bertie,” Ron says with a grin, and then, to the other guard: “We need to see Mulciber.”

“Yes, of course—I’m so sorry,” the guard – Lucy, it seems – stammers out.

After reassuring Lucy, and about fifty apologies, Harry and Ron sit down at one of the tables and wait. There’s not much they can do.

“So. How sure are you that Mulciber and Avery have mobilised the Death Eaters?” Ron says.

Said like that, put in Ron’s clear words, Harry knows, just knows, that they’re right about this. “About ninety percent sure,” he says.

“Well. Then we’re a bit fucked, aren’t we?” Ron says.

Harry takes himself by surprise when he laughs.

The door opens, and two guards bring in Mulciber. He looks just as unpleasant as Harry remembers from his trial. His hands are magically Bound together, and when he sits down, he sneers at them. Harry nods at Lucy and Bertie, who retreat to the door, wands at the ready.

“You look just like your Blood Traitor father, Potter,” Mulciber sneers.

“So I’ve been told, yes,” Harry says. He looks at Ron. They share a silent glance, and Ron nods. Harry takes his nod to mean I’ll back you up, however you do this.

“Got your mother’s Mudblood eyes, though,” Mulciber continues.

It takes all of Harry’s effort to suppress a tired sigh. More than twenty years after the war, and Mulciber thinks that he hasn’t heard a thousand different Death Eaters and criminals insult him in a thousand different ways. It’s almost insulting.

“I knew them at Hogwarts, you know,” Mulciber says. “Your parents. Think they’d be proud of you? Look at what you’ve done. Separating families. The world would be a better place if you weren’t around, Potter.” He spits the last word out. Lucy and Bertie both raise their wands, but Harry shakes his head minutely at them.

“Maybe so,” Harry says, setting the file he’s been holding down on the table with a satisfying thump. “But that’s not what I wanted to chat about. You’ve been busy here, haven’t you? No access to your wand in years, but you’ve tried to attack many wizards during your time here.”

“So many that I think there won’t be room in your file if you continue the habit,” Ron adds.

“That’s right,” Harry agrees. “And your old pal seemed to enjoy it, too. Which makes me wonder how he got off on good behaviour. Of course, you’d know all about that,” he adds, “he’s been visiting you monthly since he got out.”

“Cute friendship, that,” Ron puts in.

“Oh, yeah. Probably masterminded the whole thing in here. Dementors near Hogwarts, graffiti, all of it. You want to know what I think, Ron?”

“What’s that?” Ron says, leaning back in his chair.

“I think the Dementors were Avery’s idea,” Harry says, just as casually as Ron. “I mean, between you and me, Mulciber, you’ve hardly the brains between you two, are you?”

Mulciber sits up, his sneer replaced with an expression of pure hatred, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Oh, come on, Harry, it’s not his fault,” Ron says. “He’s never had to think for himself, has he?”

“That’s true. He’s used to following Voldemort around,” Harry says.

“Don’t say the Dark Lord’s name,” Mulciber snarls. “You—you’re not worthy, how dare—”

“If I wanted to say his name, I’d say Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Harry points out. “Besides, I can say his name. I’ve gotten up close and personal with him. As I remember, I was the last thing he saw before he died.”

Mulciber seems too angry to respond, so Harry continues.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he continues, moving to nudge Ron’s knee with his own under the table. “Completely lucky that the kids, Nigel Goyle and the rest of them, wanted to attack Scorpius. Lucky that Rita Avery hates me as much as you do and chose to graffiti shit about me.”

Ron seems to understand what he says, because he adds, “Lucky that the Dementors happened to be there when the Hogwarts Express on the way to school in September.”

“It was probably Avery, who thought about taking a chance with all of it. It couldn’t have occurred to you, of course,” Harry adds. “Get the Dementors on your side, scare them a bit. Poison the children’s minds against anyone who was a traitor to the Death Eaters. You’re lucky that the children already hated them, that the Dementors wanted an excuse to get back out into the world and multiply again.” He knows the strategy’s work when Mulciber stands up in rage, stumbles against his magical bindings, and collapses back into the chair, glaring at them.

“You think it was luck?” Mulciber snarls. “Avery and I, we planned it for months – years, even! It was my idea, Potter – the Dementors, attacking the Malfoy brat because Goyle hates him, everything! You think you’re so clever? Well, Avery knew that you might come here to see me. He’s been keeping an eye for me, see. But it wasn’t him that thought of all of this. It was me. I knew if we got the Dementors out, if we could scare everyone enough that they’d accept the truth about who the real villain is… if we could show them what happens to traitors like Malfoy… then we’d get them back on our side. The right side,” he adds, with a look of satisfaction that Harry can only describe as ‘nauseatingly ugly’.

“Is that a confession?” Harry asks mildly.

Mulciber looks a bit taken aback by that.

“I think it was, yeah,” Ron says. “Looks like our work is done, innit?”

Harry looks up and nods at Lucy, before he stands up, Ron following his lead. “Well, thank you for that, Mulciber. You’ve been… helpful.”

“Very cooperative,” Ron adds.

Lucy and Bertie walk over to Mulciber and pull him to his feet, none too gently.

“You may look happy now, Potter,” Mulciber says, “but I don’t think you’ll be quite so happy when you see what’s waiting for you in your precious Hogwarts when you get back.”

He’s pulled away by the guards before he can say anything else, and Harry turns to look at Ron, who’s looking as worried as he is.

“He could’ve been bluffing,” Ron says.

“Could’ve, yeah,” Harry says. “But he knew about the Dementors. And Scorpius.”

“That’s true. He admitted to all of it,” Ron says.

“So we can’t take the risk of him bluffing, can we?” Harry says.

Ron shakes his head. “No. We can’t.”

Harry sighs. “I’ll send Gin a Patronus. McGonagall, too,” he says.

“Yeah. Probably a good idea,” Ron agrees. “We should find Hermione. What do we tell her?”

“Let’s tell her the truth,” Harry says. “Let’s tell her that we have a suspicion that all hell has broken loose in Hogwarts, and that we need to get there as quickly as we can.”

Back to index

Chapter 21: xxi

Author's Notes: quick notes:
the earlier chapter's interrogation scene was inspired by the brooklyn nine nine episode 'the box' - also the history lesson joke in this chapter is from parks and rec :) as always, let me know what you think! just one chapter to go after this!

Professor Minerva McGonagall has been Headmistress for a long time – twenty years, give or take. She’s been a teacher longer than that, and for even longer than that, she’s been the sort of witch who never fails to notice what’s under her nose.

It’s why she hasn’t retired yet. Sure, there’s a cottage near the Scottish Highlands that’s been empty for the past twenty years, and – as Dumbledore’s portrait keeps reminding her – she’s not getting any younger. Professor Sprout keeps reminding her of their pact: she’ll retire whenever Professor McGonagall does, but Minerva isn’t ready for that just yet.

She loves her job. Whether it’s being a Transfiguration teacher, the Head of Gryffindor, or the Headmistress of Hogwarts, she’s always loved her job, and she’s always loved Hogwarts. It’s why she hasn’t stepped down, why she didn’t stop teaching Transfiguration when she became Headmistress, why she all but insisted Harry Potter come to teach Defence when she realised the school needed a bit of extra protection this year.

Sometimes, though, it’s hard to remember why she loves her job.

Like right now.

“For the last time, Mr. Weasley,” she says, “if you want to become an Animagus, you will have to provide me a better reason than that ‘you think it would be cool’.”

Freddie Weasley looks alarmingly like his parents, alarmingly like the uncle he was named for. “But, Professor,” he says. “I think you’re underestimating just how cool it would be. It could be my Transfiguration project for the next two years.”

Professor Minerva McGonagall is, above all things, professional. But she looks at Freddie Weasley before her and she can see a twinkle in his eyes that makes him look so much like his parents and so, so much like his uncle that her heart melts. “If you achieve an ‘Outstanding’ in your OWL, Mr. Weasley, then we will consider it,” she finally says.

Freddie grins. “We will, Professor.”

She doesn’t have to ask to know who ‘we’ is: it’ll be Jamie, who’s never too far away from Freddie, and takes most of the same classes as him, too.

She sniffs. “Are you not meant to be patrolling the corridors, Mr. Weasley?”

“Leah’s covering me. There’s only a few minutes left of it before the sixth-year Prefects take over, anyway,” Freddie says. “But,” he adds – presumably seeing the very much unamused look on her face – “I’d better get back to it. Thanks for agreeing to see me, Professor!”

“I didn’t,” Minerva says dryly. “You walked into my office and started talking to me.”

“Come on, Professor, you teach Transfiguration, not History. I don’t need the history lesson,” Freddie says, winking at her before he leaves the classroom.

Shaking her head, Minerva takes out a sheaf of parchment from the drawer of her desk. The Transfiguration essays for the third years are due to be returned soon, so she needs to make her way through them soon. She can’t think about Freddie too much, or about Jamie, either. James ‘Jamie’ Sirius Potter: Another ghost from the past. One of the banes of her existence and also (although she is far too professional to admit it, of course), one of her favourite students. It’s lucky that Jamie’s taken after his mother in looks, because having to think about James Potter whenever she sees him might break her heart. Jamie might resemble his mother, though, but he’s so much like James that it takes her by surprise sometimes. And seeing Jamie and Freddie stroll through the school by each other’s side reminds her of Fred and George, and James and Sirius before them. History repeats itself, and depending on her mood, it makes her feel either fond, nostalgic, or sad, wistful for what might have been, if it weren’t for the war. (Sometimes, when she’s found herself having to give them detention yet again, it makes her frustrated – how many more Potters and Weasleys will she have to deal with before she can retire?)

She forces her attention back to the third years’ essays about Animagi. She doesn’t have the time to get distracted today. She simply has too much work to do.

When her door opens again – what feels like only a few minutes later, but is closer to half an hour – she doesn’t look up when she says, “Yes?” She’s expecting Freddie, back to ask a question about how to transform into an Animagus.

“Professor!” It’s not Freddie. She looks up: it’s a panicked-looking Leah Wood, looking at her with wide eyes. “Professor, you’ve got to come, right now! Please!” she says.

Minerva gets up at once, pausing only to grab her wand from the edge of her desk. “What happened?” she says.

“It’s Jamie. And Freddie. I can’t find either of them anywhere, and Danielle says she doesn’t know where they are, either! I think—I think they’re in trouble. Please, will you hurry?” Leah says.

Minerva doesn’t hesitate. She’s a teacher, and an academic, but she’s a Gryffindor first and foremost. She has never run away when her students are in danger, and she isn’t about to start now, not by a long shot. “Lead the way,” she says.

*

“It seems empty,” Ron says at the entrance to Hogwarts.

Harry feels sick from the Apparition from Azkaban to here, the outskirts of Hogwarts: either it’s the Apparition, or it’s the fear of his family being in imminent danger. He’s going to chalk it up to the Apparition.

“We don’t know if Mulciber was bluffing,” Hermione says for the fourth time. “So we should stay calm.”

Harry doesn’t answer Hermione. Instead, he closes his eyes and thinks. Freddie’s got the Marauder’s Map, which means he doesn’t know where to start in his search. If Mulciber’s right, then something dangerous is happening in Hogwarts. The castle seems quiet, though, which means that whatever’s happening has managed to be hidden from the students. When he last left for the Ministry – hours ago – Ginny was in their quarters, along with Jamie, Al, and Lily. “That’s where we should check first,” he mutters.

“Where, mate?” Ron asks.

“This way,” Harry says, and sets off purposefully. His boots thunder on the corridors as he rushes, but Hermione and Ron manage to keep pace with him. His pace is rapid enough that he nearly trips over the stairs as he goes.

He wrenches open the door when they finally reach, and sees –

Nothing.

No one on the sofa, the armchair. No one in the kitchenette. Doesn’t seem to be anyone in the bedroom, either.

“Fuck!” he mutters.

“Homenum Revelio,” Hermione says, and shakes her head. “They’re not here. No one is.”

“No signs of a struggle,” Ron says, looking around. “Maybe they just… all left?”

“Right. Maybe,” Harry says, doing his best to calm down. He can feel his heart in his throat, thudding away. Ron could be right. Maybe Jamie’s at Quidditch practice, Ginny’s there with the team, and Albus and Lily are in their respective common rooms.

He turns when he hears footsteps, and sees McGonagall and Leah, rushing towards them. “Professor?” he hears Hermione saying.

“There seems to be a problem,” McGonagall says.

He looks from McGonagall – he knows her well enough to see how worried she is under her usual stern demeanour – and then focuses on Leah. Her eyes are puffy with tears. “Leah?” he asks.

It’s like a dam burst: Leah starts talking faster than usual, as if she’s in a rush to get all her words out. “Jamie was meant to be in the common room,” she says. “I just finished my patrol, and I was waiting for Freddie to come back from Professor McGonagall’s. I agreed to wait for him on the Fat Lady’s corridor, and we were going to walk back to the common room together. But I waited and waited and… he didn’t show up. So I went to the common room, and Jamie wasn’t there, either. He said he’d meet me at the end of my shift.”

“Maybe he went somewhere else,” Ron suggests.

Leah frowns. “He said he would meet me there, Mr. Weasley. Jamie doesn’t lie, not to me. We’re always honest with each other. If he said he would be there, he’d be there. Unless…”

“Unless something else happened,” Harry says quietly.

Leah nods. “Something’s wrong, Professor Potter,” she says. “You have to believe me.”

“I do, Leah,” Harry says. He sees the fear on Leah’s face, as clear as if it was written there, and he knows what she’s worried about. He knows it, because it’s exactly how he feels, too.

“Where do you think he is?” Hermione asks.

Leah starts to answer her question, but Harry isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s deep in thought, his mind racing a mile a minute.

“Professor,” he says, fixing McGonagall with his gaze. “Leah said Freddie came to see you?”

“Yes,” McGonagall says. “Half an hour ago, towards the end of my shift.”

“And he was meant to come see me right after,” Leah says, “but he didn’t. He didn’t show up.”

“And you were waiting for him… by the entrance to the common room? The Fat Lady’s corridor on the seventh floor?” Harry says.

Leah nods.

Harry frowns. The last time Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts under everyone’s eye, Malfoy led them there. He used the repaired set of Vanishing Cabinets… which lead the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, right onto the seventh floor, through…

“I know where they are,” Harry says. “The Room of Requirement, has to be. Come on, let’s go.”

*

Albus comes to in a room he doesn’t recognise. He tugs at his wrists experimentally. They’re bound to the arms of the chair he’s sitting on, and his legs are bound, too. His head is throbbing, his entire body feels sore, and he’s facing a wall. A white, nondescript wall.

“Wake up, Potter,” says a voice. It’s a familiar voice. Albus can’t place it. Although, he reasons to himself, it seems it as though maybe he has a head injury, so maybe his recollection isn’t the best at the moment.

“Turn him around,” another voice says, a female one this time.

Someone tugs at Albus’s chair roughly. His body, tethered to the chair only by what feels like very rough rope, jerks from the movement, and it only serves to hurt his head even more.

“Hello, Potter,” says the jeering voice of the first boy who spoke to him. As he looks up at him, Albus recognises him immediately: Nigel Goyle. Seventh year Quidditch captain, tall and burly and one of the worst bullies in school. Albus has been doing his best to avoid him for the last three years. “I knew I’d get you eventually.”

Albus opens his mouth – possibly to say what, possibly to say have you gone utterly insane, possibly to say I know where I recognise you! You attacked us! – but then falls silent when he takes in the scene before him, his mouth falling open in quiet horror.

His mum. Jamie. Lily. Scorpius. Freddie. All tied to chairs, like him. All struggling against their bonds, except… except his mum, who looks at him and gives him a tiny, almost invisible nod.  

The last thing he remembers is leaving his mum and dad’s rooms with Scorpius, chatting with him about the next Hogsmeade weekend. Everything after that is a blur, a blur which somehow led to this. Him, so many of the people he loves, tied to chairs. His siblings, his mum, his cousin, his boyfriend, helpless.

“How did you do this?” he asks, perhaps unwisely. His voice comes out in a squeak of fear. Albus would be embarrassed if he wasn’t mortally terrified right now.

“He had some help,” says the girl. “The others are joining soon. For now… Want to come out, Dad?”

A cupboard door opens, and a man steps out of it. Death Eater, Albus’s mind tells him, but he doesn’t know where he recognises him from. Maybe the newspapers. Maybe from a history book.

What is the point, he thinks, of being a bloody Ravenclaw, if he can’t remember who a bloody Death Eater is?

“Hello, Avery,” his mum says –mum spits out, more like. Albus can’t help but admire her bravery. “I’d advise against laying a hand against any of my kids.”

“Or what, Mrs Potter?” says the Death Eater – Avery – says. “It took us enough fucking times to get all of you. Getting the Weasley boy was just a bonus, isn’t that right, Rita?”

“Yes,” Rita says, looking very satisfied with herself. “He was passing by the corridor outside. So I heard him, snuck up on him, Stupefied him, and brought him in.”

“Do you want to keep on boasting, or do you want to untie me so it’s a fair fight?” Jamie bursts out.

“You know,” Rita says, “this is all your dad’s fault, James.”

“What the fuck,” Jamie says, “are you on about?”

“Jamie! Language,” Albus’s mum says, and then, “he’s right, though, what the fuck are you on about?”

“He’s the one that did this! Put Nigel’s dad in prison, kept Mr. Avery away for all these years – and Mr. Selwyn, and all of them – and the only reason that your dad got away, Scorpius,” Rita adds, “is that you knew how to get on the Potters’ good side. Have you noticed that everyone on his side never gets in trouble?”

“Because everyone on his side doesn’t use Unforgiveables, as a general rule,” Freddie puts in.

“Yeah, that’s crazy!” Lily says, and Albus can tell how much she’s forcing herself to sound steady.

Rita sneers at them.

“You know,” Scorpius says in a small voice, “I think if we all just talk this through—”

Without blinking, Avery says, “Crucio.”

Albus hates himself for his cowardice, but he closes his eyes as Scorpius screams in pain. He forces his eyes open, and sees Scorpius, pale, looking up at him with wide eyes as Avery lifts his wand and releases the curse.

“It’s your turn now, Potter,” Avery continues, and directs his wand at Albus. Albus sees his mouth form the words Crucio again, and then he’s hit by a terrible pain, white hot. It’s the only thing he can think of, the thing that’s consuming his entire body: there’s just pain, pain, and nothing apart from that, and he screams, as loudly as he can, he screams, and he screams and he screams and –

And then, as suddenly as it began, it’s over, leaving Albus shaking in his chair.

Nigel says, “And that’s just a small taste of what will happen if—”

“Okay. Alright. That’s enough,” Albus’s mum says. Her voice is angrier than Albus has ever heard it, but he can’t look at her. He looks at Scorpius, at the tracks the tears have left on his cheek. Albus knows he’s crying, too. He doesn’t know what’s worse: what he just felt, or the fact that Scorpius feels it, too.

“I agree,” says another voice.

Albus uses the last of his energy to turn his head around as best as he can, and sees the most glorious, welcoming sight in the world:

His father silhouetted against the open doorway. There seem to be a few people behind him, but all Albus focuses on is his father, who says, “Stupefy,” before Avery or Nigel or Rita can react. Avery falls to the ground, Stunned, and then Dad says, “Relashio.” The bonds tying Albus to the chair release their hold on him, and he slumps in the chair.

He can hear voices: his uncle Ron, his aunt Hermione, Stunning Rita and Nigel, rushing over to them. Lily and Freddie and Jamie and what sounds like Leah, all talking over each other. His mum, who’s saying, “Al!” Freddie, asking Scorpius if he’s okay.

His dad reaches him first. He hugs Albus, tightly, and says, “You’re okay now. It’s okay, you’re alright. It’s all over.”

Albus, relieved and exhausted and too in pain to think straight, closes his eyes, says, “I know,” and then gives in to the fatigue and the pain and passes out in his father’s arms.

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Chapter 22: xxii

Author's Notes: this is finally over! thank to everyone who read and liked it :) sequel coming soon!

The first thing Albus thinks when he wakes up, before he opens his eyes, is I fucking hope that I am not where I was the last time I opened my eyes.

The second thing he thinks is ow, ow, fuck, ow, ow, that fucking hurts.

The third thing he thinks is Scorpius.

This, this last thought, gets him to open his eyes. They feel scratchy, and his throat is dry, but that’s the last thing on his mind as he looks up. He’s in the familiar Hospital Wing, he deduces.

“Al,� his mum says, and he feels a warm hand squeeze his. He turns to the side, and sees his mum holding his hand. She looks worried, and paler than usual, but as his eyes meet hers, she smiles at him and he instantly feels a tiny bit better.

“Mum,� he says – croaks out, really.

“You were so brave, Al,� she says, and leans in and kisses his forehead. The feeling of it is soft and reassuring, and Albus relaxes into the bed.

“Is – is that over?�

“It’s over,� she says. Quiet, but determined.

“And— the others? Dad? Jamie? Lily?� Albus asks. He hesitates for a fraction of a second and says, “Scorpius?�

“Madam Pomfrey would only let one of us stay here with you,� Mum says. “Dad’s outside. Jamie, Lily, and Freddie – well, you can have a look,� she says. She does something with her wand that gets rid of the curtains around his bed, and gestures to the other end of the wing. Albus cranes his neck as best as he can, and sees Lily, Freddie, and Jamie, all fast asleep. “McGonagall thought it’d be best if they stayed the night here, just in case,� Mum continues, waving her wand and causing the curtains to reappear. “They’ll be fine, though. Now that you’re awake, maybe Madam Pomfrey will let Harry come in. I should go find her, but you’ll probably want some water first—�

“Mum,� Albus says. “Scorpius?� He hasn’t missed the way his mum hasn’t answered that.

“He’s in St. Mungo’s,� Mum finally says. “It’s nothing serious, I promise. But because of his earlier attack, Madam Pomfrey and Scorpius’s mum thought it’d be best if he got checked out by a Healer.�

“But he’s… he’s okay?� Albus asks. He thinks about how he closed his eyes when the Cruciatus first hit Scorpius, how Scorpius’s screams sounded, how he had been so pale.

He thinks about the way he felt when the curse first hit him. How he had been so busy worrying about Scorpius that he hadn’t known to watch out for Avery pointing his wand at him.

He thinks of Scorpius, pale and alone, in a bed at Mungo’s, seriously hurt for the second time in two months, and his heart sinks in his chest.

“He’s okay, Al,� Mum says. “Or… he’s going to be okay, anyway. He’ll be back by tomorrow, most likely. How are you feeling?�

Albus doesn’t know how to say like I was tortured and saw everyone I love tied up and helpless so instead he says, “Fine.�

Mum smooths her hand over his forehead. “Really?�

“No. Not really,� Albus says in a small voice. He closes his eyes against the pricks of tears he feels, but once he’s closed them, he discovers that his head hurts less that way, so he keeps them closed.

“Get some sleep,� Mum says, softly, so gently that it only makes him want to cry even more. “We’ll all be right here when you wake up. I promise.�

Albus doesn’t know how to articulate how he feels. He has no words for the anxiety that overwhelms his body and makes his heart race, the worry that when he wakes up, he’ll be back in the Room, back with Avery, back there, about to be tortured…

“Hey,� Mum says, and she sounds fiercer this time. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me, Al.� She holds a cup to his mouth, props him up with a hand behind his head so he can drink it. “Dreamless Sleep Potion. It’ll help. Go on, drink.�

Albus can feel his heart thud about five times faster than normal. He can feel the pinpricks of tears in the corners of his eyes. He can feel the bed, soft beneath his tired body. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, not really: there’s too much to feel, all at once. What he does know, though, is what he always knows: that he can trust his mum. So he drinks the potion, all of it, closes his eyes again, and gives in – yet again – to the overwhelming urge to not be conscious.

*

“We’ve got them,� Ron tells Harry.

“All of them?� Harry asks. The anger’s still thrumming in his veins, but he’s using every last bit of his effort to push it down and focus on the task at hand.

“All of them,� Hermione confirms. “They’re all in Auror custody, and they will be until their trials.�

Harry pushes a hand through his hair. “Okay,� he says.

He’d wanted to stay with Al in the hospital wing. All of them did, but Madame Pomfrey had been very clear that only one of them was allowed in, and Ginny had been adamant that it had been her.

“You have to go make sure those dickheads are behind bars, Potter, or you’ll never forgive yourself. I’ve got it handled here, now go,� she told him, and then kissed him to cushion the blow.

He thinks about Al now, and about Jamie, and Lily. Madam Pomfrey’s promised him they’ll all make a full recovery – none of them, except Al, even need to stay in the Hospital Wing longer than a night – but he can’t help but worry.

When he first held Jamie in his arms, and Al, and Lily, he’d made all of them the same promise in his mind: that he would protect them, no matter what. It’s why he agreed to come to Hogwarts, even going so far as to quit his job at the Auror Department for it. And look at where it led: his children, his nephew, and his wife, tied up at the mercy of Avery and the teenagers he’d recruited to their cause.

When he was twelve years old, he’d seen Ginny in the chamber, and thought, for an awful second, that she was dead. The feeling had felt like lead in his chest; the thought that he had failed her. It’s the only way he has of describing how he feels now: like he failed his family, like he failed at the most important job he has.

“Harry?�

Harry looks up at Hermione. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?�

“I was saying that Padma Patil’s on her way now. She’ll interrogate them and put them in holding,� Hermione says. She’s looking tentative, which leads Harry to believe that his thoughts were very much on his face.

Harry nods automatically, but then pauses. “No,� Harry says.

“What?� Ron says.

“No. I want to interrogate Avery myself,� Harry says.  

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, mate?� Ron says. “It’s been a bit of a long day…�

“I’m sure,� Harry says. Now that he’s said it out loud, he knows that that is, in fact, what he wants to do. He’s got too much anger and worry swirling around in his brain to settle down now, and interrogating Avery will, at the very least, ensure that he feels useful.

“Well… if you’re sure,� Hermione says.

Five minutes later, as walks into to the room where Avery’s being held, closely guarded by Aurors, Harry’s never felt surer in his life.

“Hello,� he greets Avery, and closes the door firmly behind him. The last thing he wants is for the Aurors at the doorway to hear him and get scared off the force forever.

“Potter,� Avery says.

He looks far less smug than he looked earlier, which makes Harry pleased – or as pleased as he can feel right now, anyway. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever going to forget the sight that beheld him when he opened the door to the Room of Requirement: Avery, looking delighted, pointing his wand at Albus. He’s going to be seeing that sight whenever he closes his eyes, for a long time. A very long time.

“I think I’ll do the talking first, if it’s all the same,� Harry says. It takes every modicum of self-control he has to keep his tone light; he compromises with himself by keeping his hand firmly around his wand in the pocket of his robes, ready to go if Avery so much as moves the wrong muscle. “As far as I know, you got out of Azkaban on good behaviour. What made you decide to fuck it all up, unleash some Dementors, torture and nearly kill some children, and convince your daughter and her friends that you somehow had a point with all of that?�

Avery shakes his head. “It’s all your fault, Potter.�

“How do you work that one out?� Harry asks, leaning against a desk.

There’s silence for a moment. Another moment. And then Avery starts talking.

“I was away from my family for years, you know. I came back and my daughter – my own daughter – didn’t recognise me. Mulciber still hasn’t seen his family. You think you’re so much better than us, but I know the truth, and Mulciber does, too. You’re the real problem. People like you, locking us up and— and people like Malfoy and his bitch wife and son, thinking they’re so much better than us because they know how to get away from trouble—or because Scorpius knows your son a bit too well—�

Harry holds a hand up. Miraculously, Avery falls silent, which is good, because Harry is about two seconds away from abandoning his wand and punching him in the face.

Harry thinks about the past few months. The Dementors. Nigel Goyle and his cronies attacking Scorpius, Albus, and Rose. Avery, using the Cruciatus Curse on Albus and Scorpius. Ginny, tied up in a chair, her face blazing with the same fury that Harry feels coursing through him now.

“You’re not going to be able to hurt anyone again for a long, long time,� he finally says. The words come out in a stony and quiet tone that he doesn’t recognise. “You know, if you hadn’t done any of this, you might had a chance to live with your family, to have a normal life. But now… Now, you’ll be lucky if you ever see the light of day ever again.�

“It’s not just me, you know,� Avery says. “There are more of us than you think, more of us who agree with me about who to blame for all of this. More of us who are going to take down the Potters or die trying.�

Harry smiles. “Good,� he says. “Then I’m going to enjoy taking every single one of you down.�

*

Madam Pomfrey lets him into the Hospital Wing the next day, after breakfast. “But don’t tire any of them out,� she warns him. “I don’t care if you’re the Chosen One and the Defence Professor, I can still kick you out of my Hospital Wing if you don’t listen to me!�

Albus gives him a tired smile when he comes in. Jamie and Lily are sitting on the edge of Albus’s bed, and Scorpius is lying down on the bed next to Al’s, fast asleep. Freddie and Ginny are sitting in armchairs that Ginny seems to have Conjured up for them, since they look far more comfortable than the usual seating in the Hospital Wing.

“How did it go?� Jamie asks Harry eagerly.

Albus and Lily look up at that, Albus looking worried and Lily’s eyes bright with curiosity. They’ve been through so much. Harry knows what it’s like to have adults keep things from you after you’ve been involved in them, so he doesn’t lie, and he doesn’t dismiss the topic. If they’re old enough to go through it, then they’re old enough to discuss it afterwards.

“They’re all in holding. They’ll be in custody until their trials,� Harry tells them.

“When are the trials?� Freddie asks.

“Next year. February, maybe, or March. Hermione fixed it up,� Harry says.

“And we’ll all have to testify, I suppose?� Ginny asks from her seat in an armchair she seems to have Conjured for herself. Harry perches on the arm of the chair, wraps his arms around her. He feels her lean against his shoulder: the only sign that she needs comfort at all.

“Yes. I suppose so,� he agrees.

Jamie looks delighted. “Does that mean we’ll get to see the fuckers get sentenced to Azkaban?�

“Language,� Harry says half-heartedly. “And… probably, yes.�

“Do you think Aunt Hermione will let me punch Rita Avery during her trial?� Lily asks.

“Probably not,� Harry says.

“Never hurts to ask, though,� Freddie puts in.

“I’m gonna ask,� Lily decides.

“That’s my girl,� Ginny says. Harry detects a faint note of pride in her voice.

Only Albus is quiet, Harry notices, but he doesn’t want to draw too much attention to it, so he lets it go.

“Well,� says Jamie after a moment. “Looks like we’re going to have to go back to having a normal school year now, aren’t we?�

“No more Cruciatuses,� Freddie says.

“No more rogue Death Eaters at school,� Jamie says.

“No more Dementors.�

“No more of Anna Selwyn’s gang.�

“Yes,� says Freddie, and then, “I still think Anna’s not too bad.�

“Just because you think she’s fit.�

“I don’t!�

“Oh, really? Then why did you—�

“Freddie, I can’t believe you’d like her, of all people,� Lily says indignantly.

As Freddie, Jamie, and Lily continue bickering, Harry turns and looks at Ginny.

“We’re going to be okay,� he says.

Ginny shakes her head. “Not right away, I don’t think. But… yes. Everything will be fine. And if it isn’t, we’ll make it be fine.�

Harry looks at her, at her bright eyes and determined, blazing look, and nods at her. He can’t say he disagrees.

 

 

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Chapter 23: epilogue

Author's Notes: here's a lil epilogue! enjoy :)

December

Teddy

i.

December comes all at once. Too soon, in Teddy’s opinion. One second, he’s helping Harry get Avery and those teenagers out of Hogwarts. (Well, he likes to think he helped, anyway. Harry reassures him that he did, and he chooses to take him at his word.) And the next second, all of the nasty business with the Death Eaters and Dementors is done with, it’s December, and he’s got to think about other things. Like Christmas shopping for one.

And another thing that he’s been putting off for far too long. It’s only been a couple of weeks since he first started thinking about it, but. It feels like it’s been overdue for a while. A long while. Ever since he was twelve and he saw eleven-year-old Victoire at Hogwarts and thought, suddenly, Oh, I hope she’ll be in my House. (She wasn’t, which meant Teddy, very quickly, got acquainted with ways to sneak into the Ravenclaw common room, undetected, which became increasingly hard as he became Prefect and then Head Boy.)

And now, at twenty-one, he’s as sure as he ever was. He can’t put it off anymore.

Which is why he’s at the entrance to Hogwarts on Sunday morning. It’s the first Sunday of December, and Hogwarts seems eerily peaceful. There’s a bitter wind blowing through the grounds, and Teddy knows that it won’t be long before snow starts to stick to the ground.

It’s hard to imagine that less than a week ago, there had been a Death Eater in the castle. It’s impossible to believe that here, where it looks so serene, is where Avery, his daughter, Nigel Goyle, and the others who had a hand in it – who they haven’t managed to apprehend yet – had Ginny, Jamie, Albus, Lily, and Scorpius restrained and Wandless in the Room of Requirement.

Then again, maybe it’s not so hard to imagine. Teddy looks through the gates and imagines, as he has countless times before, the scene of the Battle of Hogwarts. He’s talked about it before, with his grandmother, and with Harry. He’s read so many books about it. He can picture where it happened. Where Harry finally succeeded in taking down Voldemort, but not before the Death Eaters managed to get to his parents.

He takes a moment and thinks about his parents. He’s been told so much about them, by Harry and his grandmother and Kingsley and the Weasleys, that he feels as if he knows them. They’ve always been a part of his life in some way or another. He’s done his best to keep their memory alive in his actions. He’s fought for werewolf rights, he’s taken pride in showing off his Metamorphmagus abilities, he’s done his best to treat everyone around him with as much kindness as he likes to imagine his parents did.

There’s a tradition he has with himself. It’s something he hasn’t told anyone except Victoire about. Every time he enters Hogwarts, he pauses at the gates and he talks to his parents. Here, where they died, where they gave up their lives fighting for a better world for him, their son, he likes to imagine he feels the closest to them.

It’s almost time, Mum and Dad, he thinks now. I’m going to do it. You would have loved her, you know. She’s amazing. The coolest person in the universe. And if I’m lucky, she’ll say yes. And then, if I’m very lucky, we might give you grandkids, too. Wait and watch.

He opens his eyes after a moment, pushes the gates open, and walks in. It’s time.

*

ii.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” is the first thing Harry tells him when he opens the door to his and Ginny’s quarters.

Teddy checks his watch – a gift from his grandmother, Ted Tonks’ old watch – and says, brightly, “Eight in the morning.”

“The one day I could sleep in,” Harry says, but he steps aside to let Teddy in without any further protest. “Do you want some tea?” he adds, because he’s grumpy, but he’s still Teddy’s godfather and he’s never been able to be angry with him for too long.

“Sure,” Teddy says. He’s bouncing on his feet in excitement. He can’t seem to stand still. This always happens to him when he’s nervous. He felt like this before Prefect meetings, before Quidditch matches, before important meetings at work, when he first thought about joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, when Vic first told him that she thought she was pregnant…

“You alright?” Harry asks him in that mild way of his. Teddy sometimes has the feeling that Harry can look right into him and see what he’s thinking about. It’s uncanny.

“Yeah. Yeah, fine,” Teddy says.

Harry prods the kettle with his wand, and then says, “Accio cups. Teddy, if something’s wrong…”

“Is Ginny awake?” Teddy asks. He doesn’t mean to. It bursts out of him before he can think better of it.

“I think so, yeah,” Harry says. He seems to take the interruption in stride, thankfully. “Think you woke the both of us up with your knock.”

Teddy shrugs, unapologetic. “I was hoping I could talk to her,” he says.

Harry surveys Teddy for a long moment. And then, unexpectedly, his face lights up and all traces of grumpiness completely vanish.  “Is this about… the chat we had the other day?” he asks.

Teddy suddenly feels bashful. He nods slowly. “I, er. I wanted to know if she’d come into Hogsmeade with me. There’s a jewellery shop there, and I thought maybe, you know. She could help me pick out a ring.”

“Of course she’d want to,” Harry says.

“Do you want to come, too?” Teddy asks, suddenly eager to get Harry’s advice on the ring, too. Ginny loves her ring – or at least she wears it every day, which means she can’t hate it. And Harry picked it out, which means he can’t be all bad at jewellery selection.

Harry’s face falls. “I’d love to, Teddy. Really, I would, but. I’m meeting Padma and Hermione at the Ministry later today.”

“Oh. Oh, right, yeah,” Teddy says. “About the Death Eaters?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, and sighs. “Avery’s still not letting the names of his accomplices slip. We’ve got a list of suspects, of course, but we’ve got to narrow it down… Hermione says that as I’m not technically an Auror anymore, I shouldn’t worry myself about it too much—”

“But since you’re you, you’re obviously going to disregard that advice and worry yourself grey,” says Ginny as she walks out of the bedroom, wearing an old dressing gown. “Hi, Teddy. Early start today?” she adds, muffling a yawn against the back of her hand.

“Eight isn’t that early, really,” Teddy says.

“For a Sunday morning? It’s very early,” Ginny says, and ruffles Teddy’s hair on her way to the kettle. His hair’s blue today, but a darker blue than he usually goes for, almost black.

“He had something to do today,” Harry says with a grin.

“Oh? What’s that?” Ginny asks, turning to fix Teddy with a look.

“I want you to help me buy a ring so I can propose to Vic,” Teddy says, all at once.

Ginny blinks, and then says, “What? Edward Remus Lupin, you’re going to propose?!” she says, and then rounds on Harry. She seems surprised to see how calm Harry looks. “Did you know about this?” she demands.

Harry shrugs and then says, “I’ll make the tea, shall I?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Ginny says, but she’s already starting to look more amused than disbelieving or shocked.

“I was busy apprehending a Death Eater, wasn’t I?” Harry reasons.

“But surely you should be able to do that in your sleep by now, shouldn’t you?” Ginny teases, and grins at Teddy. “Course I’ll help you pick out a ring. Have you figured out how you’re going to propose yet?”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Teddy says. He knew he’d been forgetting something. “How did you propose?” he asks Harry. “Was it a huge surprise? Should I be planning a huge surprise?”

“Well… to be honest, Gin kind of figured out that I was proposing before I could do it,” Harry admits sheepishly.

“For an Auror, you’re quite shit at keeping secrets,” Ginny says fondly, and then leans in, tugging Teddy into a hug. “Don’t worry about that, you’ll figure something out, Teddy. And we’ll pick out the perfect ring, wait and watch.”

They only leave an hour or so later, after a lazy breakfast at the Great Hall and after Teddy finishes checking in on Jamie, Al, and Lily – he’s still worried about them, even though they seem to be okay, or to be dealing with it as best as they can.

“They’re still a bit traumatised, I think,” Ginny tells him, as they walk down to Hogsmeade.

Teddy glances at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ginny says. Her forehead is knit with worry, and her eyes aren’t as bright as usual. “I suppose I can’t blame them. They’re acting like everything’s fine, though. But… I can tell. Al’s been so quiet, the last week. Lily’s been a bit jumpier than usual.”

“And Jamie?” Teddy asks.

“Well, you know what he’s like,” Ginny says. “Acts like everything’s fine, all the time. He and Freddie have been practising duelling almost every night, though.” She sighs and shakes her head. 

Teddy’s grown so used to thinking of Ginny and Harry as invincible. Some small part of him, a part of him that hasn’t grown up quite yet, can’t reconcile his idea of them with Ginny now, who looks uncertain and worried.

Ginny shakes her head again, pushing her hair off her face. “Anyway. Enough about that,” she says, and she’s back to the Ginny Teddy’s grown up with, the Ginny who doesn’t let anything get to her, who never backs down from a fight, who isn’t scared of anything at all.

“Right,” Teddy says, feeling a bit uncertain. Maybe it’s too soon to be thinking about proposals. They’ve all been through something huge – it’s not like encounters with Death Eaters happen every day. Maybe he should have waited, instead of dragging Ginny with him.

Ginny seems to cotton on to what he’s thinking, because she smiles at him.  

“It’s fine. It’ll take time, but we’ll be fine. Now, we’ve got some time before the shops open. Should we get a hot chocolate?” she says. “You can tell me all about your plan to propose, and I’ll tell you all about how Harry proposed to me. It’s a hilarious story.” She links her arm through his and tugs him through the village to the Three Broomsticks, and Teddy finds himself cheering up a bit.

*

iii.

Here’s the plan:

Vic’s coming over to Grimmauld Place for Christmas Eve. Just them, his grandmother, and the Potters. And then on Christmas Day, they’re all going to the Burrow to spend Christmas.

He’s going to cook them dinner, a fancy dinner, the sort that Vic likes. And after dinner, either Harry or his grandmother – he hasn’t spoken to either of them about it yet, but he knows they’ll probably end up arguing over the opportunity – will distract the rest of the Potters, and he’ll be able to slip away with Vic.

He’ll take Vic to the rooftop, which will be specially decorated and everything –Ginny’s promised to take care of that bit. He’s going to pour them glasses of mulled wine, Rosmerta’s finest. And then he’s going to get down on one knee and tell Vic how he feels about her. He’ll tell her how much she means to him, how he can’t imagine getting through any of this without her, how she makes everything better all the time, how he wants to be with her forever and maybe have kids of their own. How she makes him happier than he ever thought possible, how he wants to spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy, too.

And then he’ll show her the ring he and Ginny picked out – gold, little diamond, pretty but discreet, the kind Vic can still wear even when she’s doing her Healer rounds – and ask her the question.

That’s the plan. He’s spent the last few days formulating it, and Ginny agrees with him that it’s a good one.

Unfortunately, that’s not how it happens at all.

Here’s what happens:

The Thursday after he buys the ring with Ginny, he goes to pick Vic up from St. Mungo’s at the end of her shift. It’s seven in the morning, and she’s stumbling with sleep as she meets him downstairs by the entrance.

“Hey,” he says, catching her before she can fall.

Her hair’s in a messy knot at the top of her head. She’s changed out of her robes, into a Holyhead Harpies jumper and baggy joggers that Teddy recognises from his own wardrobe. She seems to have forgotten to take her Eyesight Potion, since she’s wearing her glasses, but even through them, Teddy can see the dark shadows etched under her eyes. She smiles up at him and Teddy thinks she’s the most beautiful human being that’s ever existed.

“Hi,” she says, and leans up, presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here. Merlin, I hate night shifts. I can’t wait until my training’s officially done and I can delegate some of the cases.”

“Bad shift today, then?” Teddy asks sympathetically.

“The absolute worst. And I got the worst of the lot, too,” Vic says, and leans into his side.

“Want to vent about it?” Teddy offers, leading Vic to the fireplace of Mungo’s and fetching the Floo Powder. He knows her well enough to know that she won’t be up to Apparition right now.

“Yes,” Vic says, accepting a handful of Floo Powder and dropping it into the fireplace. “At home, though. I might pass out if I don’t sit down soon. Grimmauld Place,” she adds, stepping into the now-green fireplace.

Teddy pauses. Home, she said. Which means she just referred to Grimmauld Place as home. He doesn’t want to move out of Grimmauld Place, doesn’t want to leave his grandmother alone, not with how her health is getting now that she’s a bit older – although she would never admit it, of course –so he and Vic haven’t moved into their own flat. Vic’s been staying with them the last few months, since it’s closer to Mungo’s than the old flat she shared with her friends from Hogwarts, but she hasn’t called it home until this exact moment.

He doesn’t know why it hits him then, but he just knows that he can’t wait another second.

He feels a bit disoriented, even as he steps into the Floo at Mungo’s and steps out at home, and he knows it’s not just from the travel.

“Are you alright?” Vic asks him.

He brushes the soot off his jeans, nodding. She looks concerned, and soft in the light from the early morning.

“Marry me,” he blurts out.

Vic’s eyes widen. “What?” she says, very slowly.  

“Marry me,” he repeats. “Vic… fuck. I love you. So much.”

“I love you, too,” she whispers. Her eyes are starting to fill with tears, and Teddy hopes that they’re good tears.

On the off chance that they’re not, though, and that she’s crying at how shit he is at proposing, he needs to do this properly. He rummages around in his jeans, retrieves his wand, and says, “Accio ring.” He catches the ring when it flies towards him from its place in the bedside drawer in his room, but he doesn’t look away from Vic as he does.

He takes a small step back, and kneels on the carpet, right then and there, in front of the fireplace in the living room of Grimmauld Place. “Vic,” he says.

“Teddy,” she responds, sounding choked up.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, starting to feel a little teary-eyed himself. He forgets every word of the speech he had planned, the endless drafts he had in his mind. It takes everything he has to even get the words out.

“Yes,” she whispers, and then she’s kneeling too, and leaning her forehead against his.

“Yes?” he repeats.

“Of course, you idiot,” Vic says, and leans in and kisses him, and Teddy closes his eyes, lets out a small sob of relief, and kisses her back.

“Well,” says his grandmother’s voice, and Teddy turns to see none other than the woman herself, Andromeda Tonks, sitting in the armchair and looking amused, “That certainly wasn’t the most romantic proposal, was it? Could’ve checked the room to see if you were alone, for one.”

Teddy doesn’t know whether to feel mortified or delighted.

“Still,” Gran continues, “I have to say, I’m very happy, Teddy. Good job. Welcome to the family, Victoire.”

Teddy grins. Delighted, he decides. That’s how he feels right now.

***

Scorpius

i.

“Do you have all your things?” Father asks.

“You’re holding my trunk,” Scorpius says. “What else would I have?”

“Your owl, for one,” Al puts in, and Scorpius turns around to Albus Potter, his favourite person in the world, standing behind him on the platform.

“I thought you’d left already!” he says delightedly. He said his goodbyes to Al and Rose on the train. It was more emotional than strictly necessary, he’ll admit, especially given the fact that he’ll see him in a week. Al’s coming over with Rose, two days before Christmas, for the Malfoy Christmas Party (it’s always capitalised, in Scorpius’s mind, because of the way his mum and father – and grandmum – talk about it), and he’s spending Christmas with the Potters and the Weasleys, which he couldn’t be more excited for.

“I did leave. We made it to the end of the platform before I realised that I was holding Bertie,” Al says, gesturing to the cage he’s holding, inside which Scorpius’s owl is hooting indignantly at him, as if rebuking him for getting about him. His green eyes look light, and amused; Scorpius suddenly realises that it’s been a little while since he’s seen his eyes look like that.

Scorpius doesn’t like to think about what happened. They’re recovering from it, all of them, even if it’s slower than he likes.

He doesn’t like to think about what happened, but it’s all he thinks about. It’s all he pictures when he closes his eyes. There are three things on repeat in his head, in his nightmares.

The first: Nigel Goyle and his evil friends attacking him. Scorpius doesn’t like to call people evil. Most people aren’t entirely good or entirely evil; he thinks about ninety percent of them– ninety five percent, when he’s in a generous mood – exist in an in-between grey area. But some people… some people are truly evil, rotten down to their cores.

Like Marcus Avery, who tied up him and Al and Mrs. Potter and Jamie and Freddie and Lily, and proceeded to torture him and then Al, and probably would’ve made his way around to the rest of them if Mr. Potter hadn’t showed up in time. And Rita Avery, who helped him. (And Voldemort, of course. Definitely evil.)

And Nigel Goyle, who orchestrated the attack where Scorpius was hit with several Sectumsempras, the most severe of them from Nigel’s wand himself.

He can still remember the burst of pain the Sectumsempra caused him. He can remember struggling to stay conscious. He’s still got the scars, even after Mr. Potter and Madam Pomfrey healed them.

The second: Marcus Avery, using Crucio on him. It was pain, but a different sort of pain. Sectumsempra was cold, the sort of pain that bled and bled and bled and left scars all over his body.

But with the Cruciatus, he didn’t have a single scar. And it wasn’t cold pain. It was hot. It felt like his insides were being burned alive, and his thoughts didn’t come out in coherent words, just pain pain pain. So much pain, and until the curse was lifted, he genuinely thought that that was it, he would just be there, feeling the pain for eternity…

The third: Marcus Avery, doing the exact same thing to Albus Severus Potter, his favourite person in the world.  

“Scorp, you alright?” Al says, quietly, and it brings Scorpius back to the present moment.

He had drifted away, he realises, drifted into the bad memories and flashbacks that are ever-present these days, ready to surface at the slightest provocation. Scorpius blinks rapidly and digs the fingers of both hands into his palms, doing his best to ground himself here, to the moment, so he doesn’t drift again. He doesn’t like drifting, but he can’t seem to help it.

Father clears his throat. “Thank you, Albus, for returning Bertie to Scorpius. Scorpius?” he says.

Scorpius realises rather belatedly that his father is waiting for him to take his owl back. “Right,” he mumbles. He takes Bertie from Al, and then turns and looks at his father and waits.

After a moment of tense silence, his father seems to get the hint. “I will… allow you both to say goodbye. Try not to take too long, Scorpius,” he says. He walks away – out of earshot, but not out of sight. Scorpius would never admit it, but the being able to see his father makes him feel reassured, less like everything is awful and terrifying.

He sets Bertie’s cage down on top of his trunk, and then slips both his hands into Al’s. Al’s hands are warm and slightly calloused, and there’s nothing more reassuring than that in the whole world.

“I’ll see you soon,” Al says softly.

“Yes,” Scorpius agrees. “But not soon enough.”

“Well. You can always write to me,” Al says. He squeezes Scorpius’s hands.

“You’ll write to me, too, won’t you?” Scorpius says.

“Course,” Al says.

“Good. I’ve got to give Bertie something to do, or he’ll start pecking me again. You know, I’ve never met an owl who likes his job more than Bertie,” Scorpius says thoughtfully.

Al nods in agreement but doesn’t say anything else for a moment. “One week,” he says.

“One week,” Scorpius repeats. He summons up all his courage, leans in, and presses a tiny kiss to Al’s cheek. “See you soon, Al,” he says.

He thinks about the blush on Al’s cheeks the entire way home.

*

ii.

Al arrives one week later at nine am on the dot. Scorpius knows this because he’s been sitting by the door with his eye on his watch since half past eight in the morning.

“I’ll get it,” he calls out and runs to the door. It’s a very short run.

When he opens the door, he’s delighted to see Al and Rose, standing there next to Mr. Potter. He’s unable to hold in his excitement: he doesn’t even try. “Hi!”

“Hey, Scorp,” Al says, and gives Scorpius the secret smile he know he reserves just for him.

Scorpius feels his stomach warm up in a way that is the exact opposite of the Cruciatus Curse.

Rose clears her throat. “Hello, Scorpius,” she says.

“Oh, yes. Hi, Rosie. Hi, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius adds.

Mr. Potter looks amused. “Hello, Scorpius.”

“Do you want to come in?” Scorpius stands aside to let them in but stops to first lean over and hold Al’s hand. He rather thinks he’s getting used to holding his hand. It’s a dangerous addiction. “You can come in too if you want, Mr. Potter,” he adds.

“Yes, actually. I’d like to talk to your dad about the security arrangement for – er – the Malfoy Christmas party,” Mr. Potter says. It looks as if the words Malfoy Christmas party pain him. Scorpius understands: he’s never been too much of one for parties, anyway.

“He’s just in there,” Scorpius says, and points Mr. Potter to the kitchen. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mr. Potter says, smiling at him. “I know my way around Malfoy Manor.”

“I keep forgetting how big your house is,” Rose says in awe as Scorpius leads them up the spiral staircase to his bedroom.

Scorpius wrinkles his nose and pushes open the door to his bedroom. It’s done up in green and silver – Slytherin colours, sincde before he was Sorted. He knows he should change the colour of the curtains around the four-poster bed and the accents on the wall and everything like that to Ravenclaw colours, for House pride, but the green reminds him of Al’s eyes, and the silver reminds him of the little silver earrings Rose always wears, so he’s kept the room as it is. He quite likes it.

Scorpius walks in, tugging Al with him over to the sofa by the bed. Rose sits at his desk, instantly leaning over to start examining his bookshelf, which was, Scorpius realises, to be expected.

“It is big,” Al agrees. “Huge.”

Al and Rose have only visited this house twice, during the winter holidays of their first and second years when they came over to have a Christmas gifts exchange on Boxing Day. Usually Al visits for a few weeks in the summer holidays, and Scorpius’s family stays in their summer house, the house that used to be his mum’s parents’ house. He loves the summer house: it’s close to Hogwarts, and it’s smaller and cozier than this manor. It feels warmer, too, and more welcoming.

But now, with Albus and Rose with him, and his parents downstairs, and his grandmother in her room, it fees just right.

“Mum’s been trying to bake all day,” he tells them. “She actually managed some really good gingerbread biscuits. Do you want some?”

“Ooh, yes, that sounds nice,” Rose says. “Do you need help?”

“No, if Mum sees you both, she’ll force you to try her chocolate biscuits, and those aren’t very good. I’d rather save you both from that,” Scorpius says.

“Hurry back,” Al tells him softly.

Scorpius reluctantly lets go of Al’s hand and makes his way downstairs.

“Just want to make sure,” Mr. Potter’s saying as Scorpius walks into the kitchen.

“For the last time, Potter, as I’ve already told you—” Father says.

“Hello, Scorpius,” Mum says, slightly louder than usual.

Mr. Potter and Father both turn to look at him.

“Um, hi,” Scorpius says. “Just needed some of the biscuits for Rosie and Al…” he fetches the tin. As he walks back upstairs, the distant sounds of Mr. Potter and his dad continuing their discussion – which sounds more like an argument – follow him. It feels oddly comforting. 

*

iii.

By the time the party’s halfway done, the only thing keeping Scorpius feeling sane is the presence of Rose and Al at his side.

It’s beautiful, of course. The entire hall is decked up in green and silver, with mistletoe, and three huge trees, and sparkly lights. Al looks handsome in his green dress robes – they match his eyes perfectly – even if he does keep adjusting the collar self-consciously. The food is delicious. The hot chocolate is warm and perfect.

But it’s also… a lot.

“Is it always so… loud?” Al asks Scorpius softly. He might be the only person in the world who likes loud noises less than Scorpius – yet another thing to add to the list of reasons why Albus Potter is his favourite.

“Yes,” Scorpius answers. It comes out in a squeak.

Or it would be another thing to add to the list of reasons why Albus Potter is his favourite if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s so loud, he can’t think straight, and definitely can’t maintain mental lists right now.

Maybe it’s because of Avery. (It’s almost definitely because of Avery.) He remembers the parties being overwhelming and intimidating, but not this bad. Now, it feels as if the walls are closing in on him. He’s felt that way ever since Avery, whenever he’s in a room with too many people, or when things get too loud. It’s always bad. Sometimes he drifts.

He almost wishes he hadn’t invited Rose and Al here, so that he could’ve spent the evening hiding up in his bedroom, where it’s safe and quiet and no one bothers him by ruffing his hair bellowing into his ear.

Rose looks at both of them and seems to catch on to how upset they’re both looking – Scorpius can only assume he looks as upset as Al, maybe even more so. “I have an idea,” she says.  

Five minutes later, they’re outside in the garden. It’s cold, but it’s quiet and empty, and Scorpius thinks that he rather loves Rose.

“This is brilliant,” Al says.

“No,” says Rose. “This is. Accio blanket!”

Scorpius watches in awe as a blanket – his blanket, from his room! – flies out from the open window of his bedroom and lands on the grass of the garden. He can’t stop himself from worrying, though.

“We probably can’t stay here too long,” he says, “because my parents will get worried and start looking for us.”

“Won’t hurt you both to stay for a bit, though,” Rose says, and hands Scorpius the blanket. “I’ll go inside and distract your mum and dad. I think I’ll be able to buy you some time.”

“You’re the best,” Scorpius says reverentially.

“Yeah – thanks, Rosie,” Al says.

“Consider it a Christmas present,” Rose says with a wink, and turns with a dramatic swish of her maroon dress robes to go back inside.

Al blinks. “Does that mean she’s not giving us real Christmas presents?” he asks.

“Never mind that,” Scorpius says, and lays the blanket down on the grass. He sits down, and tugs Al down next to him. Once Al is sitting, though, he doesn’t let go of his hand. (Dangerous, dangerous addiction.)

Al smiles his special just-for-Scorpius smile, then looks up at the sky. “Wow. You can really get a good look at the stars here,” he says.

Scorpius wants to lean in and rest his head on his shoulder. It’s Christmas – or nearly Christmas, anyway – so he doesn’t stop himself. Al doesn’t stop him, either.

“You can,” he agrees. “You can see so many constellations, it’s really cool. There’s Andromeda, look. Like Teddy’s grandmum. It’s especially visible during the winter.”

“Can you see Scorpius?” Al says.

“Not at this time of year, no,” Scorpius says, wrinkling his nose.

Al pulls back from him, just enough that Scorpius can see him properly. His eyes are bright green, illuminated only by the faint moonlight and the light from inside the house. “It’s alright that I can’t see Scorpius,” he decides.

“Is it because you’re a Virgo?” Scorpius asks.

Al’s face splits open into a wide smile. “No,” he says. “It’s because I’ve got my Scorpius right here, and you’re better than any constellation any day.”

Scorpius blushes. He’s changed his mind: he’s glad he invited Rose and Al over, because he’s so happy that his face feels like it’s going to explode – or maybe that just might be from blushing. Can people explode from blushing? It feels like he can, anyways.

Al leans in, and then hesitates. “I, er. I wanna try something,” he says.

“Okay,” Scorpius says. He thinks he knows what Al’s going to try, and he is not opposed. Whatever the opposite of opposed is: that’s what he is. Definitely.

“Okay,” Al echoes, and then leans in. His warm hand cups Scorpius’s cheek, and Scorpius closes his eyes.

He’s kissed Al before, of course: when they first went out to Hogsmeade together, when he was saying goodbye on the train (once Rose had left the compartment), in the Ravenclaw common room or dormitory when no one’s looking. This time, though, is different. It’s not a kiss. It’s a snog. He’s snogging Albus Potter under the stars, and it feels better than anything has ever felt before, ever.

When Albus pulls back, his cheeks are flushed, but Scorpius is sure that it’s nothing compared to how he must look. “Happy Christmas,” Al says.

Scorpius blinks, and then grins at Al. “Yes,” he says. “I think it is, rather.”

***

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