9. Vows and Expectations

o o o

9.01

0730 WEDNESDAY OTTERY ST CATCHPOLE DEVON

"Bonjour, Harree!" A kiss on my right cheek was followed by an energetic blonde ten-year-old bouncing into the chair next to mine.

"And good morning to you, Gabrielle," I said with amusement. "You seem quite excited today."

"Of course," she chirped, "ma sœur ees getting married! I cannot wait!"

"And neither can I," came a tired voice to my left. I turned my head just in time to get a quick peck on my lips from a tangled mass of red hair.

"Ah, good morning to you as well, my love!" I had to hold back a chortle as Ginny, unconcerned about her significant case of bed-head, slipped into the seat on my other side. "Sleep well?"

"Eventually," she muttered. "Miss Enthusiasm over there finally ran out of energy sometime in the wee hours. Is there coffee yet?"

"I think I could use some as well," said Hermione, sitting opposite Ginny. "And no, Harry, I'm not giving you a good-morning kiss. I'm too tired to reach that far."

I faked a pout as I helped Mrs. Weasley get the newcomers situated with breakfast. I had been up for nearly an hour and we had a nice chat while working together on the food. I could understand Ginny and Hermione's reactions to Gabrielle; she seemed to go non-stop and drive us all to exhaustion, but she was very sweet about it and cute as a button, so we all tolerated her.

I was also thankful that there were no after-effects of the Triwizard Tournament, rescuing Fleur's little sister from the Black Lake. Several of my Muggle friends in my other life seemed to think that some sort of soul bond might be possible from such a heroic act. When I mentioned this to Hermione, she scoffed at Muggles' "complete misunderstanding how magic works." When I asked about life debts, she got a little more serious, saying that I could claim a life debt from at least half of the individuals at the Burrow if necessary. I mentioned what happened to Pettigrew and she commented that they weren't about to cause me any intentional harm, so I finally got her point, at least I think I did. Life debts only mattered between adversaries.

The rest of the Weasleys and Delacours made their way to the table and I became aware that all these people would also be bound to me as family — assuming I still ended up married to Ginny. That one-time monster in my chest was now purring like a fully grown lion, and my heart felt full to bursting. It did bring up an odd question — what does one call the family of the spouse of the sibling of one's spouse? Are they in-laws too? In-law in-laws? Out-laws? Gabrielle already seemed to adopt me as a favorite big brother, and whatever we eventually called it, I was OK with that.

Eventually, excuses were made about preparations still needing to be done and most of the family began to leave the expanded table. The bride-to-be, however, sat down across from me, a shadow of concern on her normally radiant face.

"Harry," Fleur said with barely an accent, "this book you read, it mentions the wedding today, yes?"

"It does," I replied, "and according to it, everything goes fine until the Ministry take-over later in the night, which we know won't happen now. In the ceremony, it says you look beautiful, so much that you cast some sort of spell around you that everyone else glows in your brilliance."

Fleur's eyes shown with the news. "So I can marry my Bill with no worries?"

"That's right. You get hitched without a hitch."

She looked confused. "Hitched?"

Ginny, somewhat alive again, giggled at my awful pun while Hermione slapped the back of my head.

"What the idiot with the idioms is trying to say is that you will get married with no problems."

"Ow, Hermione, you could've just told her that without hitting me."

"No," she declared, "for a comment like that, you needed pun-ishment."

Wh ile the others laughed, I felt the need for some payback. "Hey, Fleur, did you really invite Victor Krum?"

"Oui, we stay in touch, why would I not?"

Hermione was suddenly the deer in the oncoming headlights. "Victor is coming? Today?"

Too bad Ron hadn't made it down yet.

o o o

9.02

1500 WEDNESDAY OTTERY ST CATCHPOLE DEVON

The great white marquee stood in the orchard behind Fred, George, Ron and I as we awaited the arrival of wedding guests. I was extremely grateful to be here as myself, not under the effects of Polyjuice Potion posing as a curly redhead to be called "Cousin Barny." I mentioned this to my companions.

"That's quite alright, our brother from another mother," said Fred (I think). "There will be no shortage of redheads in attendance today."

"Mum invited all of the Weasleys we know, and that's quite a few," returned the other twin.

"Yet she can't stop blubbering over Percy's lack of response."

"Who needs the git anyway?" grumbled Ron. "He was at Harry's trial, so he knows the truth."

"Water under the bridge, I say, now I see a few veela cousins approaching."

And thus began the twins' competition to find favor with the attractive young French ladies as Ron and I laughed at their antics. I spotted Hagrid approaching and went to personally direct him to the appropriately built chair to avoid the embarrassment of him destroying some of the less sturdy seats.

Shortly afterwards, I escorted Luna Lovegood and her father, both dressed in garish yellow — for luck, she assured me — discussing the wisdom of garden gnomes. As expected, he sported the symbol of the Hallows around his neck. It reminded me that I needed to speak to a certain Bulgarian quidditch player before he went off his nut about it.

When I returned to the entrance, an elderly witch on Ron's arm was disparaging his hair length and saying that Mr. Lovegood looked like an omelet, which I found quite funny, given that she was dressed all in feathery pink. What did the book call her? Oh, yes, a bad-tempered flamingo!

"And where is that Potter boy you were supposed to be friends with, or were you just boasting?"

Ron seemed quite relieved to see me again. "Oh, here he is now. Auntie Muriel, this is Harry Potter."

I took her hand and bowed over it. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am."

She nodded. "Decent enough manners for an orphan — I doubt you learned that from this lot. I heard you escaped consequences yet again for one of your episodes of trouble-making. Is that what you get up to with my nephew?"

Ron was about to interrupt on my behalf, but I waved him off. "Oh, you know how it is, young boys with not enough to keep them occupied, reckless trouble-making just calls out to them. It's all part of our plot to cause chaos and mayhem throughout the magical world, right, Ron?"

My best mate was now making a wonderful fish impression, yet Auntie Muriel was the one who took the bait. "I knew it! Albus was supposed to training you up to be some kind of hero, and we now see where his efforts took you!"

Secretly tickled, I waved off and left Muriel fuming about the failures of my generation. Fact or fiction were irrelevant when trading gossip, and the more outlandish her claims seemed to her next victim, the less believable she would be. Of course, I could be the next burgeoning Dark Lord by the end of the week, but that would be nothing new.

We continued to seat the guests, until just before it was time for the bride to arrive, a familiar face tried to ease himself into the tent without notice.

"Hello, Percy," I said, grabbing his hand. "I'm glad you could make it. Your family will be pleased."

He seemed anything but pleased. "I'm sorry about all the trouble," he stammered. "I didn't know —"

"No problem," I said. "We can talk later. Sit back here if you want, or join the family up front."

He looked around, uncertain.

"Whatever you decide," I continued, "you're doing the right thing by coming. Trust me." I left him and made my way forward to the second row, sliding in beside Ron and Hermione.

The ceremony was even more beautiful than I had read — the ethereal glow of the bride and the incredible special effects throughout — but it was the fiery-headed bridesmaid in the golden gown that kept most of my attention. She also enjoyed messing with Auntie Muriel, taking the old crone's insults as a compliment, and I returned her saucy wink with a joyful grin and a thumbs-up.

After the ceremony came the transition to dinner around the dancefloor, and we avoided Muriel by sitting with Luna at the only available table on the far side of the tent. At one point I noticed Elphias Doge sitting alone, and I excused myself to thank him for his work on Dumbledore's eulogy in the Daily Prophet.

By the time I returned, Auntie Muriel was at our table with champagne in hand, obviously having had several already, giving my girlfriend a piece of her mind.

"...and I know about those boys you've been out with, questionable backgrounds each one, and I think you need to do better, Ginevra. As one of my few nieces, you need to cultivate a relationship with a proper wizard from a respected family, to bring some decency into the next generation, or Merlin knows what will become of our society."

Ginny winked again at me as I wandered in behind the bigoted old woman. "Auntie, I wonder, what do you think of Lord Black?" she contemplated dramatically. "Would he be acceptable for a courtship arrangement?"

"Oh, the Blacks were always at the pinnacle of society, a few bad eggs they had, but those are all locked away or given the heave-ho. I'm certain the current head would be better than the miscreants that your brothers get on with. Much too influenced by that fool Dumbledore. Who is Lord Black now, anyway?"

That was my cue, and I swooped in for the kill. "Why, that would be me, Auntie Muriel; I'm so glad you approve. Ginevra, my love," I said while she rolled her eyes, "I think our first son should be named after my father and my godfather — trouble-makers extraordinaire, you know — but our second son could be named Albus, I reckon, after our dear departed headmaster. What do you think?"

Muriel was on the verge of throwing a wobbly while the others were spewing their butterbeer across the table. Ginny, however, was putting her best effort into keeping a straight face.

"Why, I think that's a lovely idea."

"Splendid! My I have this dance?"

"Of course, I thought you'd never ask!"

And we twirled across the dance floor, celebrating our triumphs over meddlesome old bints, nasty reporters and demented dark lords.

I hoped the night would never end, but the party did wind down eventually. I was taking a break at the food table when I was approached by Hogwarts' new Headmistress.

"Harry," Minerva McGonagall said in an unusually tender voice, "I would like for you and Hermione to come tomorrow to my office. We find ourselves without a Muggle Studies teacher, and I would love to hear your thoughts on our program going forward."

"Of course, Headmistress," I said. "I would be glad to. Is nine too soon?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Time is of the essence, so if you can make it that early, I will be waiting with the floo open."

I nodded, "No problem, Professor. Anything you need."

She gave me a warm goodbye and I headed back to where Ginny waited to catch one last dance.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and lay her head on my chest as we swayed to the beat.

"Our second son will not be named after any greasy former potions masters, got that, Potter?"

I chuckled while kissing her forehead. "Anything you say, love, anything you say."

o o o

9.03

0900 THURSDAY HOGWARTS CASTLE

I shot out of the floo in the Headmistress's office, barely keeping my feet. I might actually get the hang of this bizarre method of travel one day. Hermione stepped out more gracefully, and we brushed the soot off each other.

"Good morning, and welcome to you both," stated Minerva McGonagall as she rose from the large desk that had once been Dumbledore's. Most of his crazy little mechanical devices and other decor had been removed, in favor of a much more reserved style. "Would you care for some tea?"

Hermione and I agreed, and the three of us settled into chairs and exchanged pleasantries for several minutes.

"I must confess," McGonagall finally admitted, "that the Muggle Studies program was not the only reason I asked you both here today. I need to appoint next year's Head Boy and Head Girl, and I can think of no better choice than the two of you."

"Oh, my!" Hermione gasped in wide-eyed surprise, hand rising to her mouth to probably combat a shriek of jubilation. I don't know why she thought it would be anyone else.

For myself, I gaped in astonishment before mentioning the obvious. "But, Professor, I was never a prefect."

"Neither was your father," she replied with a smile, anticipating my protest, "and it did not provide any difficulties for him. In your situation, do you really think that your leadership in this school would be questioned by any other student, even if I did appoint someone else as Head Boy?"

I had to admit, she made a very convincing argument.

"If I accept," I reasoned, "would you have some time available to get me up to speed on expectations, responsibilities and the like?"

"Of course," she said, "I would be —"

She stopped, startled, as Dobby popped into our midst, wringing his hands in agitation.

"Dobby!" I said, "What's going on?"

"Dobby is so sorry to interrupt Master Harry Potter's meeting with Professor, but someone comes towards old Professor's resting place."

"Dumbledore's tomb?" I asked. I had asked Dobby to set some perimeter enchantments so that we would be able to tell if anyone approached the tomb, possibly trying to steal the Elder Wand. "Do you know who it is?"

"No, Master Harry Potter sir, they is being under the ground."

"I doubt they're coming to pay their respects if they feel the need to tunnel up to it." I surveyed my companions; it would be good to have extra wands on hand. "Dobby, can you take all three of us?"

"Yes, they just needs to hold Dobby's hand."

We each quickly held on and suddenly found ourselves on the lawn below the castle, facing the marble tomb and the still waters of the Black Lake. The calm serenity of the scene was in direct contrast to my emotions.

"Homenum Revelio," I whispered, waving my wand past the tomb.

A ghostly light hovered above the ground about 20 feet to the right of the stone crypt. Much too close.

"Hurry, Harry," exclaimed Hermione, "they will know you used that spell on them."

Right, there's a swooshing feeling or something like that. I jogged to the spot and used an excavation spell, creating my own tunnel straight down. As the dirt went flying, Hermione and McGonagall flanked me with their own wands drawn.

A few seconds later, a human adult male was extracted from the brand new hole and fell on the ground, spluttering from the dust.

"Expelliarmus!" I cried, and his wand flew into my hands. "Identify yourself!"

"I'm sorry, Harry," he coughed. It was my former childhood friend, my crew chief in the army, fellow time traveller turned undercover agent. "I hoped you'd understand," he continued, covered in earth, "but my superiors…"

"Are not my superiors, Wiley, or John, or whoever you are. I thought I knew you, but you were just there to keep an eye on me, weren't you?"

"Harry, it's not like that…"

"Oh, tell it to the giant squid."

He only screamed on the way up from my banishing spell. He appeared to be attempting to vanish a few extra items before splashing into the middle of the lake.

"Mr. Potter, I hope you have not put him in mortal danger."

"No, professor, he swam competitively in his other life — it's like riding a bicycle, you never forget how to do it. One thing is certain, we cannot allow this sort of thing to happen again. Hermione, could you ask Professor Flitwick if he knows any charms that will summon a wand through solid stone?" I stared at the tomb as I spoke, not wanting to disturb Dumbledore's body if I didn't have to.

"Oh, of course!" she exclaimed. "If he doesn't, I'm sure we can look something up!"

Dobby volunteered to escort her there, and they popped away to see the charms master.

I turned to face the Headmistress. "Professor, while we're alone, there is another matter I've been meaning to discuss with you, and I'm afraid it can't wait any longer…"

o

9.b  Some readers have been wondering about Proxy Magic and why the chosen hosts were Americans. I created a backstory, summarized below, that is in-universe except for my parenthetical comments.

Jimmy and Wiley were two friends that grew up in the Piedmont region of North Carolina (I have relatives there, so I am not unfamiliar with the area) where stock car racing is a favorite sport and would have been a natural attraction for the boys. Jimmy, son of a small-town police officer, liked the more exciting parts of life — contact sports, auto racing, a little underage imbibing — and paid the price when he wrapped his car around a tree one night; his best friend and passenger, Wiley, suffering the same fate. They would never have recovered from their head injuries without intervention from the magical world. The British Unspeakables had been looking in other English-speaking countries for suitable host candidates (I picked Americans because I didn't have to research a place I'd never been). The closer the host's personality is to the 'mark' or traveller, the easier the ritual will take hold. Harry's passion for adventure and recklessness seemed to be a decent fit with Jimmy, who — despite the one episode of drunk driving — also had a "saving people thing." Jimmy's subsequent career as an army helicopter pilot was a natural consequence of having a bit of Harry onboard.

With a Time Turner, the traveller was pushed backwards into a time frame that had already existed, requiring great expenditures of magic to enact for even a short period. On the other hand, Proxy Magic allowed two separate yet connected aspects of the same individual to live on into the future normally. At the end of the decade, the two aspects were reunited at a time in their own past, just after they were divided. So they carried memories of a future they participated in, but for which they held no liability. It was this disconnect — and the formation of separate timelines — that made the long-term ritual feasible.

Jimmy, unlike Wiley, was not allowed any knowledge of his previous life due to Harry's minority at the time of the ritual. At the end of the decade, Jimmy was expected to retain all the accumulated memories but would likely experience a sense of loss at the departure of the aspect of Harry that had been present with him. However, the Department of Mysteries has had very few subjects to study the after-effects of the ritual. They were not overly concerned because, after all, there was plenty of time to work out solutions.

As for the why of Proxy Magic, Dumbledore had reached a decision during the summer after Harry and his friends battled Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. His failure to notice the curse on the Gaunt ring caused him to realize that his remaining time on Earth had become very short, too short to teach Harry everything he really needed to know. He met with the Unspeakables, who were trying to repair the damages from the battle, including their entire stock of time turners. In their discussion, the unproven ritual creating Proxy Magic was given priority to study, test and finalize prior to Harry's seventeenth birthday. Dumbledore anticipated that there would be an opportunity to gain an advantage — if one had prior knowledge.

During the Unspeakables' tests, ritual returnees reported a potential source for information, the Muggle versions of Harry Potter's story. Never content to rely on a single plan, Dumbledore had been responsible for these as well, having borrowed young Hermione Granger's detailed journals every year — with her permission, although she had no idea with whom they would be shared — and embellished with bits of information outside of her knowledge. He found a promising young Muggle writer who thought the story ideas he implanted had come from her own creative imagination. He arranged for this delivery to continue after his passing, and he believed that a decade would give a more than adequate cushion for the entire story to be disseminated to the Muggle public. He had no idea how closely he had come to the precipice of failure.

Desperate measures, indeed.

o